


Baby, it's you!

by letitmclennon



Series: I'll get you [2]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Living Together, M/M, Mature contents, Surrogacy, light sex scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitmclennon/pseuds/letitmclennon
Summary: Two years have passed from the end of "I'll get you", we find John, Paul and Julian living together.The "Lennon/McCartney" music school is well started, and John and Paul are as happy as they never were.Maybe, though, there's a little piece missing to complete the perfect puzzle.





	1. We three

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, first of all I want to thank all the lovely readers that left a comment to the last chapter of I'll get you. I'm really sorry I couldn't answer to each one, I had a lot of things to do in summer about university and my job. Also I'm sorry I posted this first chapter so late!  
Anyway it's starting now, I hope you guys will like it. I wanted to say that this will be a more mature story, with also delicate themes.  
Enjoy the first chapter! :D

A deep, sleepy murmur came muffled from under the covers. It was immediately followed by an arm that leaned out of the heavy patchwork duvet and stretched to the other side of the bed, clearly looking for something.

However when the lack of that something was evident, the arm owner snorted and decided to return to reality and finally he woke up.

John Lennon peeped out with his messy mass of auburn hair and looked around himself.

_Stupid Paul._

How could he wake up earlier than John and, above all, have the desire to abandon the sweet warm of the blankets, as well as the company of the other man?

John sighed, smiling at himself.

In almost two years of living together, John hadn’t been able to find the answer to those questions yet. Not that they didn't have their intimate moments early in the morning, but if there was one thing John struggled to give up, it was waking up next to Paul. Really amazing how, even if they felt asleep in their side of the bed, they inevitably find themselves against each other, as if they were looking for each other even while sleeping. For John, this was the best thing about living with Paul: the way the other man's arms wrapped around his waist, or how John's aquiline nose found itself dipped in his hair Paul's in the morning.

That's why it made him sad waking up and not finding Paul. Without the protection of his body, John felt as vulnerable as a small chick. Each danger would be fatal, and the dangers for John were always lurking. Those fears had never completely disappeared; it was that fire that had never been extinguished once and for all, that was harboring under the ashes, and it would have taken the slightest gust of wind to make the fire explode again.

John didn't want that to happen. He would have lost Paul, and it was something he didn’t want even to consider.

So he decided to join him, before letting himself be overwhelmed and brought down by those thoughts. Luckily he knew where to find him.

He got up and wore his dressing gown before heading down the stairs. When he went down to the kitchen, he noticed that Paul, as expected, was already active and all intent on preparing breakfast. An inviting scent of sausage and eggs whetted John's appetite, as he moved forward into the room.

"Good morning."

Paul turned briefly to smile at him, "Good morning, Johnny."

And much to John's disappointment, he went back to his task.

The young man twisted his lips and advanced further, to position himself right behind him. He slipped his arms around his waist and placed his lips in the hollow of Paul’s warm, food-scented neck.

"I'm hungry." he muttered, immediately nibbling on his skin, which was crossed by light chills.

Paul laughed and avoided his embrace, "Then sit down, because it’s almost ready."

Snorting slightly on his neck, John walked away and sat down at the table, looking deeply displeased. It didn't cheer him up when Paul turned off the stove and provided a generous breakfast in two large dishes and a smaller one with the cheerful figure of Donald in the center.

When Paul served John's plate soon after, he, without thinking, reached out to grab his robe and drag him on his lap.

"Got you." he said triumphantly, locking him in his arms.

Paul sighed, looking up at the sky.

"John, you really should do something about this vice of yours."

"And you should give me a good morning properly."

John mischievously pinched his backside and Paul, amused, wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Oh, little Johnny felt neglected this morning?"

And when he brought their foreheads together, John let out a sigh of relief, "Very."

"Then..." Paul began to say, rubbing their noses against each other, "I really have to make up for it in some way."

"I'm waiting."

Paul smiled and poked a finger on John's moustaches, loving the feeling under his fingertip. It had been a year since John decided to let them grow, and Paul thought they suited him a lot. John really had a mustache face. Funny how they tickled Paul when he kissed John, and that always made him laugh.

But now, when he leaned in and brushed his lips, he tried to hold a laugh and succeeded, focusing on his left hand moving into John's hair for the sweetest of caresses.

"Good morning, John." Paul whispered, "Better now?"

John murmured and nodded with his eyes closed, "Quite, but I know you can do even better."

Paul pouted, twisting his lips, "You're so demanding, you know?"

"And you're cruel."

"Why? Is it only because you woke up on your own this morning?"

"Yes, that's right." John replied, nodding vigorously,"It was cold."

"But that’s why they invented blank-"

"Besides, if I wake up and you're not there, you will leave me alone with my scaring thoughts." John continued, ignoring Paul's attempt at protest.

Paul looked at him now with totally resigned eyes, "Scaring thoughts?"

"Very scaring thoughts." John repeated, looking away and blushing a little, clearly embarrassed, "Where you're not here-"

But this time he was unable to finish his explanation, since Paul's beautiful mouth decided to silence him instantly, grabbing his face in his hands.

"I'm here, John." he sighed eagerly on his lips, "I'm right here with you."

"But if-"

"But nothing." Paul said, resting a finger on his lips, "Remember it forever. All right?"

John nodded, more relaxed, letting Paul rub his face into the hollow of his neck and leave small kisses on his delicate skin, as if to prove even by his gestures how much he actually was present in his life.

And the moment they decided it was time to eat breakfast to prevent it from getting cold, tiny little steps came in the kitchen and the two men turned to realize that Julian had just joined them. He was wearing his favorite pajamas, with many little piglets on it, a gift from George and Pattie, and he was holding his yellow submarine-shaped plushy.

"Good morning, luv." John greeted him, as Paul got up to join him.

Julian didn’t answer and rubbed his eyes with a sleepy pout.

"What’s the matter, babe?" Paul asked, picking him up and moving a tuft of messy hair.

"I had a nightmare." 

The child complained with his sleepy voice, and his eyes, still swollen. They just didn't want to stay open.

"Oh no. You too!" Paul said indignantly, "And what was the nightmare?"

Julian rested his head on Paul's shoulder, clutching his stuffed animal, "We were at the zoo and there was a big seal that wanted to eat me."

"A seal?" John repeated, "Really?"

"And it had long, sharp teeth. Like this."

And when the child imitated two long fangs with his little fingers at the sides of his mouth, John gently giggles, "Seals don't have teeth like that, my love."

"Maybe it was a walrus." Paul suggested.

"And then?"

"Then I ran away, but I stumbled and it caught me to eat me, but I woke up."

"Oh, poor baby. What a bad nightmare." Paul said, and began cradling him softly to comfort him.

"But the important thing is that it's over now." John commented, receiving an eloquent look from Paul.

"Like bad thoughts, John?"

John smiled and nodded, "Like bad thoughts."

"Then I know what it takes to recover from a bad dream." Paul said enthusiastic.

"What?"

Julian raised his head to look curiously at him.

"A rich breakfast. It's the best cure, you know." 

"The cure for trying to run away from the walrus?" John asked, interested, receiving a wink from Paul.

"For the walrus and for all the bad thoughts."

****

John signed the last paperwork of the day. They were the renewals of the contracts of the school's professors, so they were also _important_ paperwork. However, before putting them in the appropriate binder in his studio, he needed Paul to sign them too, as co-owner of the Lennon/McCartney music school.

He immediately checked the time, and realized he had to pick up Julian at school and take him to the pool. He had only enrolled him for the swimming pool that year, because Paul had advised him Julian should have done some sport, and noticing how tiny he was, John had chosen a water sport, so as to strengthen his whole body. Just a month from his seventh birthday, Julian was the lively and sweet child he had always been. He started school in September, and John remembered how nervous he was as he helped him dress for the first time in his beautiful uniform, with a blue sweater, striped tie, and elegant black pants. He was a real little man now, John thought, looking at the picture of his baby on his desk, and it pulled his heart strings to remember how fast he was growing up. One day Julian would change and never seek his company again, and John just wanted that moment to delay as much as possible, because the happy moments he now lived with his son and Paul would never come back.

He stood up, hoping to ward off those bad thoughts, and gathered all the documents to bring them to Paul. From the upper floor the sound of a guitar came accompanied by the melody of a flute, so Paul had to still be having lessons with one of his students.

John didn’t really believe that their school could have all that success in the neighborhood. Of course, it wasn't the _Royal College of Music_ in London, but it was quite famous now.

He remembered when at first there were just him and Paul. At the beginning there had been Paul's pupils, found by Jim. By the time they grew up in numbers, John had helped him and had personally followed a couple of kids who were still his students. Then the rumor about the new music school had spread and John and Paul had decided to hire teachers of other musical instruments.

The first was George Martin, a piano teacher. He graduated at the _Oxford School of Music_ with top marks, he had an amazing curriculum and played in theatres around the world and in front of world leaders. John really didn't understand how he could be happy in a little, unknown school. George Martin told him that he needed it to rediscover the meaning of music, something he had lost with all his concerts. So he was hired practically blindly.

George Martin was followed by Billy Shears, a jazz clarinetist/saxophonist, famous for his virtuosity. He studied at the _Julliard School_ in New York, where he and some schoolmates created a little band, with the hard goal of being inspired by Benny Goodman's _Big_ _Band,_ the greatest clarinetist of all time. The band had great success: they managed to get a record deal for an album and a tour. Then due to differences of opinion, the band soon broke up and each member took their own path. Billy went back to London and as soon as he read the announcement of John and Paul's school, he seized the moment.

The new professors brought a large number of new members to the school, as well as requests for other types of teaching. That's how that second year of the Lennon/McCartney school began, with the recruitment of two other professors.

The first was Pete Best as a percussion teacher. Pete was actually a friend of Paul's from Liverpool. They had met and attended _Presto Music School _together, when Paul's mother convinced him not to leave the guitar studio. It seemed that at the time Pete didn’t work, so when John and Paul couldn't find a valid percussion teacher, Paul had offered the job to him.

Of course, finding each other after almost two years hadn’t been easy, especially since Paul and John had kept everything about their cohabitation a secret. It wouldn't be professional, at least that's what Paul always said. Had it been for John there would have been no problem sharing their relationship with their colleagues.

So when Paul saw Pete again, he explained that being friend with John, they decided to open this music school, once he had lost his job as an inspector, and now, not being able to afford an apartment of his own, he was momentarily guest at John's house. Paul had no idea how he was going to handle this in the long run, but for the moment everyone believed him and he was fine with it.

Finally, the last one was Heather Mills, a flute teacher. She studied in London, at the _Royal College_ and on more than one occasion she even performed in front of Her Majesty herself. So, as with George Martin, they hired her without any doubt. After all, not everyone can perform in front of Her Majesty.

Now the school staff was acceptable. If nothing else that was the most important thing. And going forward with time, maybe more elements would be added, but for the time being it was all the school could afford.

It was a beautiful school and John was very fond of it. He never thought he could easily leave the music shop and devote himself to something else. But sharing all this with Paul made it more exciting and more beautiful.

Besides, if he had to admit it, he benefited from the exchange. Yes, he had to deal with the problems of the school and all the bureaucratic and organizational issues, but from time to time he could find a moment for himself to play his guitar; also there was always music in the background accompanying and cheering his work, whether it was a piano sonata, or a jazz piece or even a rhythmic exercise with drums.

At that moment, for example, there was a duet between flute and guitar. It was a very sweet melody and thanks to Paul, John knew it was Pachelbel's _Canon in D._ Paul and Heather were preparing it with two of their students for the school's first recital, which would be held there in a couple of months.

John then decided to go upstairs, and when the song finished, he knocked on the door.

_"Come in." _Paul's voice said.

The man came in and noticed the little smile that appeared on Paul's lips. Once again, stupid Paul. One day somebody would find their secret because of him, John thought amused. Yet he really couldn't help but find him adorable.

"John?" Heather called him.

John blinked and turned to the woman, with long golden hair and a slightly snobbish face, "Hello, Heather. Paul. Am I bothering?"

"No, we’re done." Paul hurried.

"Fine then. It was a good performance, wasn't it, guys?"

He turned to the two little kids and saw their faces glowing with joy, but this faded when Heather said, "We actually still have some things to fix. There were some bad mistakes, weren't there, Martha?"

The little girl with a chubby face and wavy hair and a flute in her hand, startled and blushed, looking away from the professor. Paul seemed to notice the little girl’s discomfort and changed subject.

"Do you need something, John?"

"Indeed, I do. I wanted to ask you if you could sign some paperwork and close the school, while I take Julian to the swimming pool."

"Of course. Just go." Paul reassured him with a smile.

"Then you find all the stuff in my office, on the desk."

"All right, John. See you later."

"Later."

When John left, Paul took a moment to try to recompose. Even though it was over that first period of cohabitation where it was all a bed of roses, he couldn’t help but feel a small, intense feeling whenever he saw John so suddenly. It wasn't a first crush heartbeat, the shocking one he felt when he realized he was feeling something for John. No, it was something infinitely sweeter and more rational. But it was strong, and it probably still made him blush, and he knew that all those stupid smiles he gave John when they met at school were just his way of telling him how he felt about him. Like a kind of little code language that only they understood. At least that's what he hoped, he had no intention of sharing his story with John with the whole school. They wouldn't understand.

That's why he stood and looked at the door for a moment, before turning to the kids and toward Heather.

"So, I'd say that's enough for today, do you agree, Heather?"

"But-" the woman began to protest.

"The kids went well and I have another lesson soon." Paul told her, smiling softly.

Heather sighed, resignedly, "As you want."

"Then, Martha, James. See you next week."

"Thank you, Professor."

The two kids carefully placed their instruments in their respective case and after greeting the two professors, they left the classroom. Paul prepared to arrange the chairs for the next lesson, while Heather didn’t seem to be planning to leave his classroom. In fact with a small leap she sat down on a little desk.

"So is it true?"

Heather's question made him gasp slightly, and he looked at her, puzzled, "What?"

"You and John living together."

"Oh." Paul replied, trying not to blush and hide from her gaze, "Yes, it's true."

"I don’t want to seem inappropriate, but why?"

Paul tried to ward off the blush that wanted to appropriate his face in any way, and he succeeded by keeping himself busy. For example, right now he decided to place in a corner the music stands Martha and James had used.

"Well, we invested all our savings in this school, and so he offered me to stay with him and his son."

Heather nodded, the expression thoughtful and not entirely convinced.

"Since I arrived I've always seen that tag on your letterbox, and I couldn't believe it."

Paul frowned and decided to look at her in the eye. Well, that was exactly why he didn't want to make their relationship public.

"It's not so absurd. We are... _friends_, who are living together to help each other."

"If you say so." the woman said, shrugging her shoulders, unconvinced, "Like this, though, you don't have a little privacy. Where do you take your girlfriend?"

Paul laughed slightly, "I don't have a girlfriend."

The answer left Heather utterly astonished, "What? A nice guy like you doesn't have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah." Paul said, unable to help but find the situation amusing.

He didn't have a girlfriend, it was true, but he had someone very, very special in his life. So much that he had to be protected from people who couldn’t understand that feeling that bound them. And Paul was afraid Heather was among those people.

"Does that mean after Jane you didn't find anyone else?"

"Listen, Heather..." Paul began to say, sighing, "I don't want to be rude, but I don't like to talk about these things."

Heather gasped, evidently not expecting a similar answer from Paul.

"Oh, forgive me, Paul, I didn't want to make you angry." she told him, jumping off the bench and approaching.

Paul hastened to point out that no, he wasn’t angry, but she reached him anyway, looking at him apprehensively and touching his arm with her hand.

"It's not that I'm a nosy, you know, but everybody knows your story, unfortunately. With that actress and then the job you lost and-"

"Yes, I know it too, thank you."

"I've never had the opportunity to ask you before, but since I arrived I've been very interested. That's why I wanted to know why you live with John."

"Well, now you know." Paul blurted, trying to escape her grip, but Heather prevented him.

"Yes, but please, Paul, let me say something. I think you should think seriously about your future now."

Paul looked at her, bewildered, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the school is well started now, and you should try to save something to find an apartment of your own and create your own family. And so should John. Of course, he already has a son, but he may be looking for a new partner."

"But I don't-"

"Have you ever wanted children, Paul?" Heather asked.

"Of course." Paul replied, hesitantly, "Only I had a other thoughts in my head recently."

"Well, now you're free." the woman said, with a small pat on his chest, "You're still young and you know, it takes time to have a child. You have to find the ideal partner, find a home together and only then you can start thinking about having children. Let me tell you, it's not easy at all. My ex-husband was a total idiot, you couldn't rely on him about these things. But I noticed it too late, when the honeymoon period is over, you know?"

Paul opened his eyes wide, with a bothering gasp of his heart.

"Yeah, I do." he replied in a trembling voice.

He was aware, it was the same period that Paul had been through with John, and now it was ending slowly. The period when you get used to each other's presence, something that you really should never get used to because life itself has never to be taken for granted. It was also the period when, because of this, some attentions failed. Like Paul getting out of bed before John woke up.

Of course, if he did that, it was just to prepare a surprise for him. And yet... God, what a fool he had been!

He knew how much John cared about those moments with Paul, and he was taking them away from him.

"Well, then, if you need to talk to someone, or whatever kind of help, you know where to find me."

Paul pushed away his thoughts, and slightly confused he looked at her when she winked cheekily, before greeting him and leaving the room.

He didn't understand exactly what she meant. Or maybe he got it, but he had no intention of thinking about what it meant. No, he was convinced it meant only trouble. Not so much the young woman, but rather her insinuations.

She definitely pressed the right button. Paul loved children. He loved Julian, and having his own would be the best. A child maybe with his own eyes or his nose, or maybe his hair.

But at the time it seemed impossible. Being with John didn't make things any easier.

The thought accompanied him for the rest of the afternoon, causing him not a few difficulties in concentrating and following the remaining two lessons he had planned for that day.

It was as if he was questioning the last years of his life, those that changed everything. And now he wondered if this could make him happy and satisfied.

However, he felt that he could never question John nor Julian.

And Paul realized it when coming back home that same night, he found father and son in the kitchen, both busy taking a hot, steaming pizza out of the oven.

The kitchen was a real disaster: items scattered everywhere, bottles of tomato sauce and packages of mozzarella abandoned on the sink. And let’s just not consider the flour that whitened everything, especially John and Julian's faces and aprons!

"Right in time, darling. Dinner is ready!" John exclaimed, looking at him with a smile.

"We made pizza." Julian added.

Paul looked at the child with his cheeks, nose and floured hair and a somewhat improvised apron, and felt a sweet tight of his heart that made him smile tenderly.

"Yeah, I noticed." he replied, laughing and looking around.

He was afraid to know who would wash everything, Julian included.

"Then hurry, wash your hands, so we can eat."

"Are we sure it's edible?" Paul asked, with a funny face.

"Hey!" John said, deeply indignant, "We've wasted a lot of effort and a lot of sweat on it."

"That's what worries me."

"Ah, you’re so ungrateful. I wouldn't let him eat pizza, what do you say, luv?"

Julian's crystal clear laugh filled the kitchen and seemed to bring an answer to Paul's doubts.

How could he even think of questioning his greatest treasure? He had suffered and fought with John for that treasure. He could never, ever question what he had now.

So without thinking, he bent down to thank the child and kiss him on the head. And then, when it came to John, he clung to him wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his lips gently.

"What’s that for?" John asked, pleasantly surprised.

"It's to thank you."

"Then I should make pizza more often, so I can be thanked like this more often."

Paul nodded, finding in his arms a gentle shelter from his torments, "You really should."

John's embrace reminded Paul that after all, he didn't need to think about his future because it was right there, in front of him.

With Julian and John.

_Or maybe not?_


	2. I'm losing you

When someone knocked on his door, John was carelessly strumming his guitar.

So he said, "Come in" and put the instrument aside.

Heather came in with a big smile, "Hello, John."

"Heather. Please, have a seat."

The woman came closer and sat down in front of John.

"Last payrolls before summer, huh?" she asked with a laugh.

"Yeah. We will see each other in September. Your contract has been renewed."

John smiled at her, before looking for her paycheck in the desk drawer.

"Oh yes, thank you very much."

"I hope you've had a good time this year here."

"I definitely have. When I found this job I had just left my husband and you know we were also artistic partners. He was an excellent pianist. I thought I couldn't find joy in music anymore, but I was wrong."

John sighed, fully understanding what the woman meant. It reminded him all too well of a certain lad.

"I'm happy for you." he told her, handing her the envelope.

Heather took it and looked distractedly at it, "And I had the opportunity to meet so many new colleagues."

"We're still just a few, but yeah, it's a good team." John agreed, leaning back in his chair.

"That George Martin is amazing. I've always dreamed of meeting him one day, and now I'm even a colleague of his."

John laughed softly, amused by her enthusiasm.

"And then there's Paul."

And _Paul_ suddenly turned off John's laugh. Not so much for the name itself, but rather for how it had been pronounced. There were decidedly too many hidden sighs, too much sweetness.

"Paul?" he repeated, and his heart beat faster frightenedly.

"Yeah. He's a dear boy. So loving and charming." she sighed.

Her gaze was dreamy, so impressed, that John understood why he was so annoyed: it seemed like he could see himself again in those eyes.

What the hell was he thinking? No, it wasn't just a feeling. And he was _absolutely_ sure about what he was seeing!

Only there was a difference. Even if Heather may seem bewitched when she talked to him about Paul, she didn't show the depth of feeling John felt.

"I admit that when I remembered who he really was, I was a little puzzled." She continued, oblivious to John's turmoil of feelings.

"How come?"

He had stammered, damn, for his growing insecurity that had just awakened from its torpor because of Heather's words. He was pathetic, he knew, but he couldn't help it. His fear of losing Paul, well controlled and hidden in a remote corner of his heart until now, was slowly coming out into the open.

"Well, he worked as inspector for years, I didn't think he could still have the notions to be a good teacher."

"But luckily he has." John protested, "Paul is great, and we decided this together after he was able to teach me how to play guitar."

Heather barely gasped in her seat, before melting into a big smile and making a vague gesture with her hand.

"Oh yeah, I saw it by myself. I got to know him better while preparing our two kids for the concert, you know."

John bit his lip, looking at her perplexed, but he seemed to come back to himself, "Good."

He had been reckless, very reckless in his too involved reaction. Like when he started to fail during his thefts as Hermes. Once again it was Paul's fault. He should never have exposed himself so much in front of an employee. It was risky. Paul would never forgive him.

"You're very good friends, aren't you?" Heather asked him suddenly.

John saw her smiling tenderly, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"What?"

"I mean, I know you two live together and then you defend him so lively. You must be very good friends."

"Well, of course." John replied, doing anything not to blush.

He was almost sure he had succeeded.

_Almost_.

"You don't have to be ashamed, it's very nice that you're helping him like that."

And for a moment John thought that maybe he was wrong to be afraid. Maybe there was really no danger for him.

However, Heather went on.

"However I think each of you has your own needs. The other day I was talking about this with Paul."

And she confirmed John's worst fears.

"What exactly would _this _be?"

"Well, this situation. Paul living in your house."

John frowned, puzzled, "And why should it be your business?"

His question had been asked too abruptly, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. Why was this woman sticking her nose?

And most importantly, why did Paul talk about it with her instead of John?

"I just wanted to give him advice." She answered with a shrug.

"That is?"

"That is, you are thirty years old, and he is nearly there too. You should start thinking seriously about your future."

John blinked, "Our future?"

"Yes, for example, don't you want to give Julian a mother?"

"Julian has already a mother. He doesn't need another one." John snapped, crossing his arms.

"Well, then don't you need a partner? And Paul would need it, too. He should start thinking about it, so that he can have a family, a wife and his own children." 

John's heart sank yards and yards underground. Was that the problem with Paul then?

"Did he tell you?"

"No, but you can tell. He's so sweet and he is so good with kids.” Heather replied, smiling dreamy, "Trust me, you can see he wants one. Let my sixth sense say it."

Fuck her sixth sense! That woman knew nothing about Paul and John, she had no right to stick her nose in those affairs. She had no right to tell them what to do and judge their lifestyle.

She was nobody.

"Well, now I really have to go, so I'd like you to get back to your job."

_Since I pay you for it, _he added to himself.

"Of course. Thank you for that, boss." she said to him, waving the envelope.

John watched her leave, the blood boiled in his veins.

That was it, right?

The same old fear of losing Paul?

Or was it a simple jealousy wave?

He didn't know either. He just knew he was going crazy. If there was one thing he had learned by far, it was that he should never have hidden his worries. They were just bringing trouble. They lagged in his heart, exaggerating problems that didn't even exist.

So he decided he needed someone. And since Paul was out of the question, John opted for his longtime friend, George Harrison.

John wasn't exactly the kind of guy who would talk about intimate stuff: his past, his problems with Cynthia, the affair with Paul, they were all such private topics that they had always made him very reluctant to share them with others. Even with Paul, he was cautious at first.

However, too often he experienced on his own skin the need for a shoulder to lean on, which he could share the oppressive weight in his chest with. So there he was, a few minutes later, perched behind the counter of what was once his music shop, recounting what happened, while George was all about working.

"Did she tell you that?"

John nodded sadly at George's question. The young man was busy placing some recent records on the shelves, but he listened carefully to John's story.

"And Paul never told you about it?"

"No."

"Surely it's an important topic, and I think someone like Paul would have done it."

"That's what I believe." John sighed, stretching out his arms on the counter.

"Then why do you think he didn't want to talk to you about it?"

"I don't know." John replied, hitting his head on the counter lightly, "Maybe he wants to leave me and is afraid to tell me."

George looked at him, then raised his eyes to heaven in resignation. John hadn't changed in those years. Or at least as far as his flaws were concerned. Surely he was a much happier man than before Paul's arrival, but underneath he was the same damn insecure lad who would build a great drama in his head at the first trouble.

It was a hard habit that died hard. But this time George wouldn't let him ruin his life, especially since John had gone to him and confided everything to him asking for help.

"Come on, John, don't tell me you really think so..."

John sighed before shaking his head faintly, "No, no, you're right."

"Can't it be that she made up everything?" George tried, approaching his friend.

The young man suddenly raised his head to look at him with bright eyes of hope, "Are you suggesting it's a lie?"

In response George shrugged, "Well, from what you said, she only seem very fascinated by Paul. And you know what they say, right? All is fair in love and in war."

Heather fascinated by Paul?

Then, if even George had come to his own conclusion, his fears were well-founded.

God, it was a disaster. The worst of disasters! A beautiful young woman had just set her eyes on Paul. _His Paul!_

And if what she told him was true, then John was doomed.

"But..." John continued, stammering, as his fingers clung forcefully to the counter, "Why telling me a lie? She just knows that we are friends and we live together."

"Then if I were you, I wouldn't worry. Wait for Paul to come to you. If what Heather said is true, I am convinced that Paul will talk to you about it as soon as possible."

"But if-"

"But what, John?" George blurted out, frustrated, "Who do you believe in? Her or Paul?"

"Paul, of course." John answered, with an offended pout.

Of course he believed in Paul! It wasn't even to be asked. John believed in Paul, but there was a part of him that was never entirely convinced of his trust in Paul. And it wasn't Paul's fault at all. At least not entirely his fault.

George patted him on the shoulder, drawing his attention, "Then relax. And forget about this so-called Heather. She's just a woman who's experienced Paul's charm."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. You know, Paul? Doe eyes, little nose, kind manners?"

John snorted and looked at him as if to tell him _'you're as nice as a kick in the ass’._

"Yes, thank you, George, I got it."

"Well, then I don't have to be the one to tell you that he will continue to fascinate people for a long time yet. He probably will do it even when he's 70. You'd better start getting used to the idea." George exclaimed, laughing at himself.

"I think you're getting too tired, man, you know? You’re starting to babble."

"Maybe, but I think I'm right. We will only find out in about fifty years." George said and chuckled at himself, while John gave him a stupid grimace.

"Have you ever thought of taking someone to help you? It would do you good."

"Seriously, John, remember what I said and wait for Paul to come to you, all right?"

John looked at his fingers on the counter: they had abandoned the solid grip a few minutes earlier, so yes, he was fine.

"I'll try. Thank you, Georgie." John sighed, standing up, "See you tomorrow for dinner, then?"

"Certainly."

After greeting his friend, John decided to stretch his legs and take a walk before returning to school.

Walking in the streets of Chelsea cheered him up usually. It helped him to get all bad thoughts out of his mind.

Maybe George was right and John should have listened to him.

If Heather was telling the truth, then Paul would go to him and tell him about it when he was ready. That delay and that confidence with a stranger was simply due to the delicacy of the subject. And if Paul didn’t let him know yet, that was certainly explained by Paul's intention to deal with all this with John.

Or no?

Or maybe he was really afraid to leave him?

Perhaps he had been thinking about this opportunity for some time now, and in the meantime, as he accepted it, he tormented himself because it meant leaving John. And with everything John had already been through, surely Paul felt guilty about him. Though to be honest, John hadn't noticed anything different about Paul.

However, John felt deep down, within himself, that he could never allow it: he couldn't let the guilty feeling to stop Paul from having a family of his own. He had every right.

So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice he had arrived on the river bank. It was a beautiful spring day, the sky was clear and blue, its color was so relaxing that it seemed to tell him that everything would be fine.

But how could it be good if the risk of losing all that was most beautiful to him was becoming real?

Sighing, John dropped on a bench, with his head in his hands.

No, no, it couldn't go on like this. His confidence with George had certainly helped him, yet it was so difficult to try to prevent his bad thoughts from taking him over. It wasn't pleasant at all, John knew it would bring out his worst side if he didn't act properly.

Once, when things between him and Paul had settled down, after that brief but terrible separation, John promised himself that he would do nothing to ruin that relationship and he knew that even _nothing_ would be enough to ruin everything again.

So, now, right now he felt one step away from grasping that _nothing._ But he couldn’t, he couldn’t in any way do this to him and especially to Paul.

It would have been a difficult job, trying to ignore his fear, he was sure, but he would have to do it.

And if what he feared had come true, well, then he would have thought about it at the time.

For now he had no intention of ruining their lives with his own hands.

It had happened once and it wouldn't happen again.

_Never again._

****

Paul stroked Julian's hair when the baby collapsed asleep in his arms.

They had spent all afternoon at the park, chasing each other through the trees and feeding the squirrels who approached without any problems to feed themselves. If one of them got too close, Julian screamed happy, but ran away to hide behind Paul, who watched the whole scene amused.

And now, as the sun went down, Paul came home carrying the exhausted baby in his arms, sensing his sweet breath touching his neck.

He had loved every single moment of that afternoon with Julian. He loved to play with him, make jokes, prepare him food, help him with his first homework and put him to sleep.

He loved being a dad.

Yes, Julian already had a dad, and many times John had told him that he was like a dad to Julian, but Paul knew within himself that he would never really be a father to the baby.

Julian's father was John and Paul thought he was also a great dad to his son.

But Paul?

Would it have been enough for him to have this role? Would he be satisfied?

Paul shook his head to ward off that ridiculous thought. It was inappropriate. Paul loved Julian as if he were his son.

Then why was he allowing Heather's words to caress something very, very deep in him? Something that purred sweetly every time he was with Julian.

It was natural for him to want to become a father, to have a child of his own. It was something that at some point in life could be born in everyone. It was simply human nature.

But human nature had the ugly habit of not dealing with the heart.

It was a stupid, ridiculous, utterly insane wish, but for a moment Paul thought it would be great for him and John to have a son. With John's eyes and Paul's nose. Or with John's mouth and Paul's features.

But it was stupid, yes. Not to say impossible.

However, although there was no way to make this happen, there was another way to solve the situation.

Having a child and raising it with John, parenting together and starting from the beginning.

He just had to talk to John about it, and hope he'd understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I hope each of you is ok. :D  
Sorry for being late, I had a lot of things to do starting the lessons of the new master degree. ^_^  
So, maybe this first chapter are a bit slow, but we're entering into the problem. ;)  
Thank you for your lovely comments. They made me so happy. <3  
Next chapter will be "Baby's request"!   
Ciaoooo  
Chiara


	3. Baby's request

Captain Maccaron, the scourge of the seven seas, still couldn’t figure out how he ended up in that situation.

He was the dreaded captain of the _Helter Skelter, _whose waving Jolly Roger flag meant only serious trouble for everyone, and now he found himself on the platform, ready to jump off the trampoline.

How did he get to this point? Well, he had to admit that hiding the treasure map from Bootstrap Jules, and the boatswain Dhani, the Swordskull, wasn't a great idea.

Now he was there watching the sharks swimming and waiting for their lunch, in the stormy waters of the Caribbean sea, while the two mutineers encouraged him to jump.

_"Arrrr, _this won’t be the end, Bootstrap. You may have the treasure, but my spirit will look for you all over the seven seas and avenge me."

That said, he jumped, and the last thing he heard was the squeals of joy from the two pirates.

Luckily there was no shark waiting for Paul, only the hard floor which he collided against, before rolling on his back.

The children, Julian and Dhani, immediately rushed to his belly to tickle him.

Torture wasn't over!

"Enough, enough, please. I'm already dead." Paul said laughing.

"You're lying, Captain." John said, "Good old Maccaron can’t perish for a couple of sharks."

Paul looked skeptically at him, which was quite difficult under the tickling attack by two children.

"Can he? Next time we go to the zoo, I'm going to throw you in the shark tank. Then we'll talk about it."

"I say Paul's had enough, what do you say?" George asked, as Pattie continued to giggle amused by the little play, "Kids, it's time to go to bed. It's late."

Julian and Dhani obviously protested, as it was still early. But the parents didn’t agree, so Pattie and John grabbed them and after saying good night to Paul and George, they took them upstairs.

Paul rose from the floor and cleaned his pants, as he reached George at the table.

"Another cup of tea after all that piracy?"

Paul sighed, laughing a little, "Yes, thank you. It’s good to have a break from rhum every once in a while."

The tea was still hot and was really restorative for his tired body. Playing only with Julian was very different from playing with two children, also because one of them was very lively.

And yes, he was talking about Dhani, a little five-year-old boy, with an angel's face who hid an amazing cleverness. He had been living with George and Pattie for less than a yeat. In the summer they would know if the period of foster care had been successful, so they could consider the child a real Harrison. If not... well, otherwise Paul didn't even want to think about it. He was happy for his friends, they had what they had waited for, suffered and fought for a long time.

He was happy because they were happy. Pattie was just like a new mother: bright, tired but satisfied by the love for her baby. And George was so changed that Paul didn't recognize him anymore. He was no longer grumpy and cynical, now that he had a kid of his own to play and to listen to his favorite CDs with, now that he could see how his wife was quiet and serene wife, now he was... yes, he was happy.

It was a simple word, perhaps, but for Paul it was the only one who could perfectly explain how his friend felt.

If he stopped too much to think about it, could he ask himself that question?

_And you, are you happy, Paul?_

Of course he was, he had his family, and he would give his life for them. Yet he wanted more. He knew he was lucky, but he also knew that guilt was tormenting him.

Was it really that bad to want more? 

"It's true that you’re very good with children."

Paul blinked, pushing away his thoughts. Perhaps he must have written all over his face that he was lost in another world because George smiled.

"Dhani is always happy when you come to visit us. Of course he likes to play with Julian, but he has a lot of fun with you too."

"I'm a born prankster, didn't you know?"

"To be honest, I did, I remember very well how much you and Julian got along at first. I really envy you for it."

Paul smiled, before he took another sip of tea, "Why? You and Dhani seem to be great together, don't you?"

George looked down, fiddling with the teaspoon and tea dregs, "Yeah, it's just that, you know, I'm not as friendly as you. It's not natural to me, I have to try hard for my son’s sake."

"The important thing is that your efforts have a result. And trust me, that's absolutely true." Paul cheered him on, finally turning to him.

"Thank you."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on then."

Paul saw the expectation in George's eyes and was suddenly caught by a thousand questions. What if George wouldn’t understand? What if he misunderstood? What if he got mad at Paul or misjudged him?

Too many ifs... stupid _ifs_ were useless to Paul right now. The only one that really mattered was _'if you don't jump, you'll never know'._

"Forgive me if I seem unkind to you..." he began resolutely, "I wanted to know if it was hard to accept that he wasn’t your natural son."

George took a moment to answer, looking at him intently, as if he had already understood, beyond his gaze, the real reason behind that question.

"You know, Paul, the fact is that _he's_ my son. Officially he's not yet, but for me he already is. And even though he doesn't have the same genes as me, I'm taking care of him, me and Pattie. You know what they say, don’t you? Parents are the ones who raise you."

Paul let George's words echo in his ears. Yes, damn it, it wasn't just an insignificant cliché. It was the damn reality. And Paul was surrounded by examples, he himself was one, to tell the truth.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, it was a totally stupid question."

"Why this doubt, though? Is it for Julian?"

"Oh no, no, I love Julian and I love him as if he were my son. I assure you." Paul hurried to answer.

"Then what's the matter?"

Paul bit his fingernail to ward off some nervousness. He wasn't totally convinced that speaking so much with George would be ideal. He was too close to John. But on the other hand, he had to start with someone, and perhaps his closeness to John made George the most suitable person for Paul's doubts.

"I was thinking of John."

"Why John? Do you have any secret children?"

Paul laughed, putting the cup of tea on the table, "No, but I'd love to have one."

"Secret child?"

"Not secret. But I wish he or she was a little... you know, a little _mine_." 

George seemed surprised, but not as Paul expected. Which was probably good, it didn't make him feel like a total idiot.

"You mean really yours, not adopted?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

"For the same reason you also wanted a child. It's part of our nature."

"And how would you like... I mean, how are you going to...?"

"There are a lot of ways, you know, George." Paul replied, before the other man finished the question, "And before you ask, no, I have no intention of giving up on John."

"All right. Have you talked to him about it?"

"No, but I want to do it as soon as possible."

George nodded, but he didn’t shift his gaze to Paul. It was clear that he understood Paul's state of mind all too well. After all that time, Paul had learned to read the unflappable George. That's why he realized, from a couple of wrinkles on his face, that he still seemed unsure, as if there was another doubt in his head that was tormenting him.

"Do you think John will agree?" he asked again.

"Paul, John cares about your happiness. Of course he'll agree, as long as you don’t plan to leave him." George said, laughing at himself.

Paul smiled, relaxing a little, "I think so too."

"And I'm sure he'll love the kid like he loves Julian, don't worry."

Paul was rather surprised to hear the answer to his next question, but he really shouldn't have been. After all George had been with them from the beginning of their story, and had observed everything carefully. If anyone knew them well, it was him.

And now that he'd been able to confide in George and he was more relaxed, he just had to find the courage to talk to John about it.

As deep as the connection with John was, Paul was aware that the subject was risky and that it would bring out John's insecurity.

But Paul didn't want to lose him, and that, his only certainty, was something he could prove all too well.

****

When John finished brushing his teeth, he carefully wiped the toothbrush and put it in its place, right next to Paul's.

He paused for a moment to look at himself in the mirror, as he thought back to Pattie's words.

Taking advantage of the fact that they were alone while putting the children to bed in Dhani's room, and remembering what Heather had told him about his alleged 'sixth sense', he decided to ask his friend's opinion. At least she was more trustworthy than Heather. John feared that the young teacher was partly guided by female hormones, rather than by her sixth sense.

"Paul is adorable with kids, but that doesn't necessarily mean he wants one." she told him.

"But what if he does? What if one day he decides to leave me to start a family of his own?"

"John, it will never happen. You can’t think that."

"’Course I can. We can never have a child of our own."

"Oh really? I thought the same about me and George, and now, look at this beautiful boy." Pattie said, smiling and tucking Dhani in.

By then John mentally called himself idiot and hid the redness of his face, leaning over to kiss Julian's head.

Before going downstairs to George and Paul, he apologized and she patted him on the face, reassuring him.

"Paul wouldn’t give up on you for anything in the world."

And now, looking distractedly in the mirror, John repeated those words in his head like a mantra, as if he wanted to calm down and convince himself.

Yes, Paul knew how to deal with kids, and Pattie was right to say that didn't necessarily mean wanting one. Also because, let's face it, it's not enough to be able to play with them and come up with some nice story to be a parent. It was a full-time job, eight days a week! It was exhausting and frustrating but despite everything, it was a job that gave the greatest happiness with the smallest smile and the sweetest of hugs from your son.

However John noticed a slight change in Paul, in the way he looked at Julian, as if he were... _ready._

And it was useless, no matter how much John tried, he couldn't hide this scared him to death.

Maybe George and Pattie were right, indeed, they were definitely right. Paul wouldn't give up on John so easily. Yet what could he offer him, other than a life full of difficulties and prejudices? They hadn’t even been able to let their colleagues know about their real relationship. How could Paul think of facing this and the arrival of a son with John, when everything would be a thousand times easier with a woman?

John shook his head firmly to ward off those thoughts. It wasn’t healthy to think over his fears just before bedtime.

So, he greeted with a smile the sight of Paul sleeping blissfully in their bed, well hidden under the blanket. Only the disordered mass of black hair was visible as a tuft of uncultivated grass.

Without thinking twice, John got into the bed, with his back facing Paul, and sighed. But, he didn’t even have the time to close his eyes, because he felt an arm slip around his waist and hold him, pulling him nearer.

"So, you're awake. I thought you were already in the dreamland with many pirates and mermaids saving you from a slow and atrocious death by drowning." he said.

Paul laughed, half sleepy, and gently kissed John's shoulder, before hiding his face in his hair.

“John?”

“Paul?”

"Can I ask you something?"

John's heart accelerated, and its pace became so intense that John was trembling in Paul's arms. He had a fear of knowing what he wanted to ask him. And even though he didn't want to show his fear to Paul when he told him, he decided he wouldn't lose that moment for anything in the world. So he turned to look at him in the eye and held him in the same way.

"Tell me."

"You know how much I love Julian, don’t you?"

"Of course."

"And you do know how happy I am to be with you?"

John nodded, sighing, "I do."

"And you know that-?"

"Paul, stop beating round the bush and spit it out!" John said, laughing tenderly at Paul's obvious nervousness.

"Oh, ok then." Paul murmured, before inhaling deeply, "I’d like to have a child."

At last the moment that John had feared, had come. And although he had been frightened at the idea, he realized now that a strange feeling of tranquility and... trust? Yes, trust! Well, that feeling was taking over his body. The tension began to melt as he could look at Paul directly in his eyes.

He seemed sincere and as George said, he had finally confided in John, he had just put his wish in his hands, hoping that he would understand it and accept it.

And John just wanted Paul to be happy.

"Paul, I-"

But John never got to finish his sentence, as Paul hurried to add, "You don't have to answer right away, okay?"

"But-"

"Think about it and when you decide, we'll talk about it again."

Paul smiled at him and rested his forehead on his. John looked at him for a long time, studying his behaviour. He had stopped him from talking because he was afraid he would refuse? Or maybe because he didn't want he could say yes too quickly to a proposal that was too important?

Whatever it was, John told himself that maybe Paul was right. He should have thought about it a little more before answering.

So he nodded and Paul stroked his cheek before kissing him softly and whispering, "Thank you, darling."

After that, he started to get away, but John held him close.

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

"I was wondering..."

"Yes?"

"Don't you want to know how Captain Paul Maccaron's story ends?"

Paul laughed, while John rubbed his nose against his neck, "Wasn't he dead?"

"Nah." John snorted, making his partner laugh at the tickle, "Paul isn’t dead."

"What happens, then?" Paul asked, lowering his voice and taking on a sensual tone that made John shudder.

Without thinking too much, John rolled Paul on his back, pinning him against the mattress.

"Luckily for him, the ship of the dreadful John Big Rhumhead was passing by."

John sat astride him, before he began to kiss and bite his chin and the entire jaw line.

"John Big Rhumhead?"

Paul, amused, closed his eyes and stretched his head backwards to provide more space for John's explorations.

"That's right. He fishes the Captain back from the waters, saving him from the sharks that had already felt his sweet scent..."

John's nose rubbed against his cheek, inhaling it thoroughly, while his fingers slowly untied the t-shirt of his pyjamas and Paul twisted again for the tickle.

"I doubt he smelled very good."

"... and then he makes him his prisoner." he murmured with his lips against his chest.

Paul laughed mischievously as he wrapped him with legs and arms.

"That doesn’t sound any good."

"Let’s board! _Arrrrr!!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, are you ok?  
Sorry about posting late. I have so much things to do, work, study, then some personal problems at home and gosh, I want to run away!!! ç_ç  
Anyway, here we go with chapter 3.  
Paul was able to tell John his wish. Yay?  
Next chapter, Mother, we will see for the first time someone who was mentioned in "I'll get you" but we never so him/her... Guess who...  
Ciao!!!  
Chiara


	4. Mother

When the door opened, Paul knew exactly what would happen next.

With his half-closed eyes, he saw Julian climbing enthusiastically on the bed and beginning to do anything to wake him and John.

"Come on, Dad, Paul, wake up."

John muttered something like "In a minute" before hiding his head in Paul's chest and covering his face with his arm.

"But it's my birthday." Julian said, starting to jump on the bed and repeating those words like a song.

John grunted annoyed when Paul decided to open his eyes and untangle from the embrace.

"Your birthday? Did you remember that, John?"

Julian stopped jumping, thus avoiding to cause nausea to his poor sleepy father, and crossed his arms with a pout.

"No, not at all. I don't think it's anyone's birthday in particular!" John muttered, squinting only to see his son's reaction.

"But Dad!"

The child complained so much that Paul felt his heart tighten and he couldn't really play along.

"Wait, I remember." Paul said, hitting his forehead with his hand, "I think you’re right, Jules. Come here now." 

The kid’s face lit up after the pout and plunged into Paul's cozy arms.

"Happy birthday, babe." He said to him, holding him and tenderly kissing his head, "Seven years old is an important goal, isn't it, John?"

Paul kicked John's legs to wake him up, and finally, giving a threatening look at his partner, John decided to open his eyes and stretch lazily.

"Nah, he’s always my little brat."

John chuckled in front of Julian's offended face.

"But Dad, I'm going to school now, I’ve grown up."

The child crossed his arms again, and John nodded, before stretching out and grabbing him to draw him onto his chest.

Paul laid down next to them as John held the baby, caressed his hair and whispered to his cheek, "Happy birthday, my love."

It was a stupid thought, but sometimes Paul felt excluded from that picture. As much as he loved Julian, as much as the kid knew that Paul was just like another dad to him, Paul knew also that in the end, there were only two of them. 

In fact, the three of them.

John, Julian e Cynthia.

Cynthia would be at Julian's party. Of course, she was his mother, what else could Paul expect?

A hint of jealousy pierced his heart and Paul tried to push it away, but he failed quickly enough. John looked over Julian's face and frowned, worried.

"Jules, why don't you start washing yourself so we can start preparing everything we need for your party?"

"Can I make sandwiches?"

"Sure!"

"Yeah!" Julian jumped out of bed happily and ran to the bathroom.

John watched him run away with a smile on his lips, but this soon vanished when he turned to Paul.

The man had suddenly disappeared from his sight, covering himself totally above his head. John looked up at the sky, fearing what was going on. So he reached Paul under the covers, noticing his pout.

"Good morning, then."

"’Morning."

"I'd like to ask you what’s the matter, but I think I already know." 

"That's not what you think."

"It is, ‘course it is, and let me say you're so silly."

Paul deepened his pout when John affectionately pinched his cheek, and crossed his arms almost like Julian.

"That's not true."

"Is it because Cynthia is going to be at the party, isn’t it?"

Paul instinctively bit his lip, before looking away and hesitantly replying, "Not really."

"You're not believable, luv." John said, laughing softly, resting his hand on his cheek, "You'll see it's going to be all right this time."

"But she doesn't like me."

"You’re totally mistaken, my dear."

"I'll tell you."

"And even if she does? Does it really matter so much to you? After all, Julian already likes you, and I think I've shown you several times how much_ I_ like you."

Paul burst out laughing as John pinched him on the thigh and held him closer. Sighing, he let himself be lulled this way to recover and allow John's words to push away his useless stupid jealousy. Then he kissed him, lingering on his lips for a few moments before pulling away.

"Go help Julian now." Paul said to him, encouraging him with a slight pat on the chest.

"You come too?"

"In a moment."

"All right."

John slipped out of bed and Paul sighed, turning under the blankets and hiding his face in the pillow.

Yes, Cynthia was going to be at the party too, and no, Paul wasn't convinced she liked him.

Why?

Well, the first meeting wasn't exactly idyllic. It wasn't as if Paul imagined it, with him and Cynthia immediately making friends and tuning in for John and Julian's sake.

No, none of this happened.

****

_Two years earlier_

Paul wiped his hands on his pants for the hundredth? Thousandth time?

He didn’t know anymore, but come on, anyone in his place would react in the same way. Having invited for a lunch together John's ex-girlfriend, also known as Julian's mother, the woman Paul had heard so much about and never met until then, was far too much for his poor nerves.

Although John had told Cynthia about Paul and everything, or at least, _almost_ everything they had been through, he had postponed that meeting as much as possible, and Paul knew he had done it because it would make him nervous, even John himself. But now that they decided to move in together, it was only fair that Cynthia knew the man who would live with her son.

Paul had always accepted and understood John's choice: he knew Cynthia better than Paul and knew when the time would come for them to meet. However, it was only then that he really realized how much he could be nervous from the meeting with the woman.

John didn't slept very well, continuing to move in bed, and Paul felt like a total idiot, a total wimp. Where had his courage as an inspector gone?

He knew the meeting would be important and difficult, but the goal was to put everyone more comfortable, wasn't it?

At least until now it was everything all right.

Cynthia was a very pretty woman, with long blonde hair and a sweet smile. Despite all the difficulties she had encountered, it seemed that she was now fine. Of course the relationship with the doctor, Jim Christie, was helping her, as well as the reunion with Julian.

Paul was happy to see her serene and relaxed, knowing how much she had suffered in the past. So maybe all his and John's concerns were unfounded. Julian seemed thrilled with the situation, surrounded by the people dear to him at the time, the same people who had to take care of him.

The lunch was good, if we don't want to count those moments when they decided to know more about the way John and Paul met. Luckily, John had his beautiful story ready to tell. He just had to omit the "I was some kind of criminal and he was the bobby who had to catch me" part, but otherwise it went all very good.

Cynthia seemed intrigued by the music school's plan and agreed when John told her that, he wanted to enroll Julian too.

So Paul was nervous, and his hands kept sweating uncontrollably, making it difficult for him to grab the cutlery. But he told himself that he really had no reason to worry.

They were all happy and comfortable. That's all that mattered.

So he tried to relax and didn't get particularly nervous when, at the end of the lunch, John offered to show the house to Jim, along with Julian, and he was alone with Cynthia. For this very reason, he felt so relaxed that he began to clear the table. Cynthia got up at once to help him.

"No, don't worry. I can do it myself." He reassured her as soon as he noticed.

But she shook her head, starting to pick up the dishes, "I'm glad to help you."

"Well, then, thank you."

"The lunch was great. Did you cook everything?" she asked, following him into the kitchen.

"No, it really was a team effort. Julian also helped with the dessert."

"My baby boy has a future as pastry chef then." she said, laughing softly, "And John has been very good with him."

Paul bit his lip as he put the dishes in the sink. Despite the laughter, he sensed a melancholy note in Cynthia's voice and didn't really know what to say about it. Whatever went through his head seemed inappropriate. But he had to say something, it was obvious that she wanted him to do it. Maybe it was some kind of test?

"It's true." Paul hurried to answer, turning to smile at her in an encouraging way, "You're doing a great job with him, too, right?"

The woman shook her head, sadly, "Not as I would."

Paul stepped closer to her mainly to take the dishes from her hands, but at the same time he tried to caress them briefly, "You have to give yourself time and you will see that everything will be fixed."

"Yes, maybe you're right."

"And by the way, you can always count on our help."

Cynthia looked at him with an expression that Paul couldn’t really decipher. At least not at that moment, not with that particular state of mind.

"So is it official?"

"What?" he asked, blinking puzzled.

"That you two are going to live together?"

"Well, yes, that was the idea. If you agree, of course, your opinion really matters to us." Paul reassured, forcing himself to smile.

However Cynthia bit her lip, briefly looking down on the ground before looking back at Paul. And it was only then that he understood why he was right to be so nervous.

"What if I don't agree?"

Paul opened his eyes wide and looked at her, feeling his breath cut in his throat, "Why?"

The voice was trembling and he had no intention of looking so much in trouble in front of her, but it was stronger than him. What he feared was about to become true, and that was also what John feared. 

"Well, Paul, basically I don't know you. I know you're very important to John, but I don't know anything about you. How can I let you live with my son?"

Paul continued to look at her in disbelief for what seemed like an eternity. And as he listened to her telling him those things, a fire lit up on his cheeks, but especially inside him. The living fire of anger, fueled by the woman's words.

"Maybe because I love Julian as if he were my son, how about that?"

Cynthia seemed to be taken aback by Paul's answer, but she didn't let herself be intimidated, "I don't question it, but again, I don't know anything about you, your life or your habits. Yes, John told me about you, but the truth is, he just presented me with a fait accompli. He never told me about you before few months ago. At least, not in that sense. You've always been his neighbour to me. Nothing more."

Paul couldn't believe he was facing this for real. He didn't want any of this, he just wanted all of them to be happy, why couldn't they get along? Why didn't Cynthia trust him? She had every reason in the world to want to know the man who was going to live with her son, but damn it! If John trusted him, why couldn't she just trust John? After all, he had never made her suffer, indeed he tried to help her in every possible way. And instead it seemed that this was worth nothing to her and was making Paul go wild.

"You should understand that that was a very difficult time for him. How could he tell you if he had to solve his problems first? Didn't you think that maybe he didn't talk to you about it because he didn’t want to create further difficulties?"

"But it was my son." Cynthia retorted, frowning.

"It was about your son even when you left him, don't you think?"

Paul knew he would never, ever have to say that, but damn it, he was angry and he tried everything he could to control himself so he wouldn't say anything like that, but obviously he hadn’t done a good job.

Stupid him and his cheeky tongue. It had always been a problem.

Needless to say, he immediately regretted what he said. Despite everything, Cynthia didn't deserve his bitter accusations. He tried to apologize when he saw Cynthia all red in her face, perhaps out of anger or shame.

"You're right, Paul." She said with a little voice.

"No, I’m not." Paul sighed, running his hand in his hair, "I had no rights to blame you for those things."

Guilt eventually quickly drove away his anger, or at least, a good part. He couldn’t say that he was okay, but he still tried to fix his mistake.

"But it's the truth."

"Anyway, I shouldn’t say it. And I'd like to assure you that Julian will be fine with us, really well. I would never allow anything bad to happen to him. And if you're afraid that something might change anything between you two, just don’t worry because it won't happen. You'll always be his mom. It's something no one can change."

Cynthia stared at him uncertainly for a few moments, before nodding slightly, "Alright."

"And about me going to live together with John and Julian, if you want we can talk about it together again." He said to her, with a sigh, "But I must tell you, I will never, ever give up on John."

Cynthia's eyes widened, and Paul stood proudly, finding the courage to continue.

"He gave me a family, gave me a passion for music and for life, and I will do everything to make him happy. He and Julian are my family, so I'd really like us to get along."

"I..." Cynthia began, torturing her hands, "I think that I'll need time to accept it. I understand that I have no rights to stand in your way, but with a little patience, maybe one day I will accept it."

Paul sighed relieved. It wasn't a win, but it was still something.

"I think it might be fine, for the moment. Don't you think?"

Cynthia looked at his embarrassed smile and tried to reciprocate.

"You know, Paul, you..." Cynthia began, but stopped immediately as soon as she heard someone's footsteps approaching.

Two seconds later, John's smiling face peeped out the door, and he watched them curiously.

"Where were you? I've been looking everywhere for you guys."

"You didn't look here, otherwise you would have found us." Paul replied, winking at Cynthia, who seemed to relax.

John called him "_Cheeky" _before looking at the woman.

"Julian is in his room all anxious because he wants you to see his new toys. I left him with Jim, but he doesn't seem very comfortable with the kids." he said to her, giggling stupidly.

"You're wrong, John, he's great."

Cynthia sneered at him, before leaving the kitchen and going upstairs. As soon as she was out of the room, John turned to Paul, who in the meantime had finished putting the dishes in the sink to keep busy and not be discovered by John.

The man looked at him very well before approaching.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Of course, why do you ask me?"

Paul avoided turning to him, but he felt perfectly that John was studying him carefully.

"Dunno. I felt a kind of vibration between you and Cyn."

"Which kind of vibration?" Paul asked, laughing.

Or at least, trying to laugh.

"Tension. A lot of tension." John answered, in a sincere tone that made him shudder.

He knew John had guessed something, but how could he tell him the truth? It would have broken his heart. He seemed so happy until a few moments ago.

"No, you're wrong, John."

"Can you swear to me?"

"What?"

John took him by the wrist and turned him over, looking directly into his eyes in the way that made Paul feel totally exposed.

"Can you swear to me?"

****

No, Paul couldn't swear. Not with John looking at him like that. Only those who had tried it could understand the total inability to lie... in front of John.

Eventually, he was forced to tell him everything, making him promise not to get mad at Cynthia and assuring him that he had already solved everything.

John agreed, so as not to make that whole messed-up situation worse. In fact, it wasn't all sorted out, but at that moment Paul had to settle for the little result.

From that time on, the meetings with Cynthia were occasional, and most of the time it was just a matter of bringing or picking up the baby at their home. And it was for Julian's sake that Paul was trying not to think about it too much and behave with his mother as if nothing happened.

They rarely spent enough time together to have to engage in a conversation that would highlight the tension of the first meeting. Anyway, John was always ready to come to his rescue, never leaving him alone with Cynthia or Jim. Paul hated all this situation: he wasn’t a princess to be rescued. He was perfectly able to save himself.

He had always managed alone, so even if he appreciated John's intentions, he had to make it clear that he didn't need the nanny.

He'd talk to John about it, as soon as possible. Now he just wanted to enjoy the party. For the occasion they had put colorful festoons all over their house and inflated balloons, and then there were sandwiches, canapés, chips and biscuits, all those treats to which the children, and even the adults, of course, never know how to resist.

Julian had invited some children, including Dhani and Yoko's daughter, who inevitably meant that she was at the party as well.

Paul didn't care much. Of course, he didn't fail to notice how she looked at John while he and Paul improvised a sketch to entertain the children. As if John were a succulent profiterole ready to be devoured. However John behaved in an absolutely normal way with her, ignoring her dreamy looks, and enjoying instead the harmony with Paul. So he had no reason to worry.

It was Paul's idea, that sketch. Paul and John played two sailors in the yellow submarine commanded by Captain Julian, and they lost the words of a song they had written for his birthday. So they asked for the help of the little guests and the birthday boy to find the hidden words in the room, and when they gathered them all, John and Paul performed in a fun duet with the song that spoke in some way about them, about how happy they were to live together in that house that was a bit like Julian's yellow submarine. A happy little island.

At the end of the sketch John was still with the children, while Paul decided he needed a drink. With all that singing and making sailor verses, his throat had dried.

He was helping himself with some tea and carefully choosing which cookie to match his cup of Earl Grey, when a rumor drew his attention.

"Great show."

Paul turned, with a shortbread between his lips, and smiled in surprise, finding himself facing Cynthia.

"Oh, thank you very much." He answered and hurried to get the biscuit out of his mouth.

"It was a very nice song. Did you write it?"

Paul nodded, "Me and John."

"Well, it was really adorable."

"It was just an experiment, you know, for Julian."

It was born for fun, during one of the rare moments they had to play together; one verse after another, one note after another and before they knew it, they found themselves with a real song.

"He certainly appreciated it, and so did the other children." Cynthia said firmly.

The young woman looked back on the children and in particular on Julian who was opening his friends' presents. Paul took advantage of the break to eat his biscuit and drink tea. Too bad he forgot how hot he was, and his tongue burned.

He sweared mentally, trying not to break down too much in front of Cynthia. In her presence he always felt in awe, always observed, studied, _judged_. But in spite of his best efforts, she seemed to notice it anyway.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I am, don’t worry." he answered, resting his cup of tea on the table to cool it down a little, "But, tell me, are you having fun?"

"Yes, very much. It's a beautiful party."

"I'm glad you came, you know." he told her, sincerely, "Julian cared very much."

"I wouldn't have missed it for nothing."

Paul smiled at her and watched her carefully, crossing his arms. There was something different about her: as always she tortured her hands and tried to appear quiet, but Paul noticed that deep down, in her smile, in her eyes there was a new desire, a desire to... reconciliate?

"Listen..."

"Wait, Paul." she interrupted him, firmly, raising one hand, "Let me speak, please."

"Oh, alright."

"I'd like to apologize for the way I've behaved with you in the past."

Paul didn’t want to appear too surprised in the woman's eyes, even because he had never thought that she was a bad person or arrogant or anything like that. However, when he woke up that morning, thinking he would have to meet her again, everything was expected less than an apologize. And hearing it at that moment sent him out of phase.

"I didn't know you well and I was afraid that sooner or later you would get tired of this situation. And it was absolutely the last thing I wanted, because I noticed how much both John and Julian care about you, and seeing them suffer would break my heart."

"And now?" was the only thing Paul could say.

"And now I know you could never do that."

Paul smiled to himself and nodded, "That's it."

"And I would also like to thank you for what you do for them. I'm glad you got into their..."

Cynthia paused for a moment biting her lip, before taking Paul's hands in hers.

"_Our_ lives. They're fine and it's all because of you."

"I don't know what to say." Paul murmured, really speechless.

"Just tell me you're going to keep doing what you've always done with John and Julian."

Paul didn't need to think twice. He didn't need to remember how good it was to wake up in the morning with Julian jumping on their bed, or falling asleep at night making peace with John after one of their stupid and pointless quarrels.

All the moments together, good or bad, were important to him and Paul couldn't wait to live more for many years.

"You can count on it."

****

"God, thank you."

Paul sighed, after all the guests had gone away. He reached John, who was relaxing on the couch listening to the good old Elvis, and the man laughed softly as Paul lay down to rest his head on his legs.

"Do you think everyone had a good time?"

"I guess so, what do you say?"

"That I'm sure of one thing." John told him, stroking his hair carelessly.

Paul opened his eyes to look down, "What?"

"They finished everything." he answered, making Paul laugh, "Have you seen them? Worse than grasshoppers. I think they fasted a week to stuff themselves with food."

"As if we were a renowned restaurant."

"We should have served roasted goose, with apple and goose liver pate, soaked with Madeira."

John winked at him, with a snobbish accent and a drunken expression. Paul continued to laugh, kicking in the air to hold his belly in front of John's imitation of Uncle Reginald. _The aristocats_ was one of their favorite films, so much so that Julian proposed to change the names of Elvis and Pepper to _Minou_ and _Bizet._

Slowly the laughter waned and Paul was able to relax, closing his eyes and letting the notes of that familiar song allow him to find a regular breath.

"I saw you talked to Cynthia." John said suddenly.

"You don't miss anything, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you, darling."

Paul turned to him mischievously and John bent down to move his hair from his forehead.

"However, yes, we talked."

"I hope about me and very, very bad." John said, intrigued.

“Actually, we both agreed that you've gained a little bit in the last few years.”

"Blame your dainties."

Paul laughed smugly, before becoming serious again, "She actually apologized."

"What?" John repeated, looking at him surprised.

"Yes, about the whole story, you know, of not agreeing on going to live together." 

"Well, after two years it was about fucking time."

"Come on." Paul said, patting him on the chest, "She was nice."

"I know, and I'm happy, I'm really, really happy. And I'll tell you, I was sure she would accept it sooner or later."

"Me too. If nothing else we have one less problem to think about now."

"Speaking of problem, do you want me to carry you in your room or do you prefer to sleep here tonight?" he asked, teasing him on his side.

"We can stay here a little bit more, until the song ends. Do you want to?"

"Ah, then did you recognize it?"

"Obviously, what a questions!" Paul replied, curling his nose, and John couldn't quite hold back from leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose.

How could he not recognize that song? _Can't help falling in love_, straight from the _Blue Hawaii_ LP_, _which he had given to John at a very, very particular time in their lives.

He would never forget that song.

"But then we’re going to sleep."

He would never forget anything about him and John.

"Yes, to sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I finally did it!  
I'm so tired with work and studying that I'm working less on the translation. I'm so sorry.   
Anyway, this is chapter 4 and we met Cynthia finally. I hope you like the scenes.   
Next chapter, Beautiful night, as soon as I can.   
Ciaooo  
Chiara


	5. Beautiful night

Casually humming "_We all live in a yellow submarine_", Paul looked away from his father and sang the last chorus, before ending his performance.

He felt quite satisfied with his composition. Until a few years before, he hated music and all that kind of stuff, and now there he was, not only teaching how to play guitar in a school and having a relationship that was basically born thanks to music, but he had even begun to compose.

Of course, he didn’t hope to become a world-famous musician, one of those who were always on great tours, so loved that people desperately beg for a gig in their own country. Nope, that wasn't his ambition.

However, because of his past, he was incredibly surprised by how his life changed. He couldn’t be disappointed; music after all had brought him to John, Julian and his new work. And he liked teaching. He really liked it. 

At first it had been difficult, he had to admit it. Teaching to John was one thing, teaching to different kids was another. With John, friendship was born almost immediately. Their lessons soon became only a pretext for being together. But the students? They relied entirely on him to learn all about their instrument. However, thanks to John's encouragement, he threw himself into the new adventure and now he knew he had done damn well. Paul felt full of pride whenever one of his kids learned something new or performed perfectly with a new song, and it was a feeling that made him feel finally in the right place.

"Did you write it then?" Jim asked when Paul finished his performance.

"Of course. John and I." Paul replied, smugly, "What do you think?"

"It's very nice."

"The kids at the party loved it."

Jim nodded, smiling faintly, "By the way, I'm sorry I couldn’t come."

"Don't worry, you just have to think about getting better." Paul encouraged him, getting up to put his guitar in the case.

"Thank you for coming."

Paul cleared his voice, sensing a slight blush on his cheeks, "You don't have to thank me. It was a pleasure."

After all, he couldn't let Jim be alone in those days while he was struggling with flu. He was still his father. And although he still felt something that kept him from letting go with Jim, for example, calling him _Dad_ (as John always advised him), it was his job to take care of him. So he took a few days off to be with him, cook some food for him, and look after him like Jim did when he was a kid and was sick.

Fortunately, thanks to Paul's attentions, Jim had recovered in a short time.

"That’s good."

Paul looked away from what he was doing to turn to the man and smile at him.

"And Paul, about the song..."

"Yes?"

"It's really good."

"Thank you."

"It seems also pretty simple to play. Have you ever thought about trying to use it as teaching material?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are a very good teacher and now you have also started composing. You could combine the two things and write methods to use at school and eventually sell for autodidacts. These are things that work very well."

"Really?"

"Sure. Besides, through the music shop, you could easily get in touch with some publishers to publish the works. That would be a good way to make up your wage, wouldn't it?"

"Yes." Paul replied, biting his lip, "That wouldn't be bad at all." 

"Then think about it, Paul, you can also talk to John about it." 

Paul thought about it. Jim's proposal came to an unexpected end and intrigued him a lot. Writing that little song with John for Julian was incredible: not that the fact might have surprised him, but it was still interesting to note that they worked together that way as well. Although Paul had initially taken care of the melody and John the words, it happened that during the writing the roles had been reversed very often, and everything happened so naturally that it seemed they completed each other. Moreover, if they had really had another kid, surely a further entry would have been much more than appreciated.

Fuck, he had to talk to John right now!

He thanked his father for his advise, and assured him that he would come back the next day with John and Julian; then rushed out of the house. He checked his watch and noticed that the school was closing and John would surely be in his office. It was the perfect time to talk to him about it.

He can’t wait for it. He wondered what John would think. Would he accept or say no? Maybe he'd be scared, or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd be as excited as Paul. Who could say? John was a constant surprise to Paul even after two years of living together.

He hurried to reach and knock on the door of John's office and as soon as he heard his "_Come in_", he opened the door and rushed in, closing it perhaps with too much strength behind him.

"Paul? What's going on?" John asked, gasping for the unexpected noise.

He was surprised, not so much to see him in his office as to notice his enthusiasm.

"Nothing. Am I bothering you?"

Paul laughed still excited, and immediately reached John, sitting on the desk in front of him.

"No, but you made me worry with this impetuosity." John answered, giggling and leaning back in his chair.

"Really? Bad boy, Paulie, right?" He said, pouting, "But you see, darling, I was only in a hurry to talk to you about fantastic news."

John smiled to himself, "Oh and is it a good thing?"

That said, he slipped his hand on Paul's thigh, and he gasped at the touch.

"Er, John, I don't think it’s appropriate. If someone came in..." he began to say, pushing away John's hand.

"Relax, Paul, there's only Heather left and she's still practicing upstairs."

Paul bit his lip, but realizing John was right, he relocated. There was still the sound of a flute coming from the upper floor. So he allowed John to take his hand between his own and draw him slightly towards him.

"Then, what about the fantastic news?" John started.

"Well, I was at Jim's..."

"Isn’t it time for you to start calling him _Dad?"_

"Isn't it time for you to stop with this stuff?" Paul exclaimed and crossed his arms with a snobbish face that made John smile.

"It was just an idea, honey. Don’t be hysterical because you’re so good that I could make fun of you for life." he said pinching his thigh.

Paul jumped, laughing lightly, "Would you let me talk, yes or no?"

"Only if you have to tell me nasty things."

Paul glanced at him mischievously, approaching him to whisper in his ear, "I'll tell you if you let me talk about this first."

"And what happened to the _'I don't think it's appropriate’_?"

John stood up, so as to be at his level and looked him in the eyes.

Paul smiled tenderly and slipped his free hand over the collar of John's shirt, pulling him closer so that their foreheads could meet, "I'm still a man with his weaknesses, what can I say?"

"Luckily I know them all, then, so I can use them in my favor."

"To do what?"

"To decide whether or not to accept your proposal."

Paul just moved away to ask him a question, "How do you know I have a proposal for you?"

"I know the tone." John answered grinning.

"Well, you have to know that I made Jim listen to our song and he thought it was quite simple to play."

"Well, sure, we can't become the new Simon & Garfunkel any minute, can we?"

"Oh I would never dare to aspire that much. But you know, he thought it would be a nice idea if we started writing teaching methods not only for our students, but to publish them."

John blinked, puzzled, "You mean with a real publisher?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think anyone would really buy the stuff we write?"

"Why not? We should try…"

Paul pouted at him and looked at him begging, and John knew that in front of those eyes he could never say no.

"You're right." he said at last, kissing the tip of his nose, and Paul smiled happily.

"Thank you, Johnny."

John was about to caress his cheek, when the door opened, making both of them gasp.

"John, can I come in?"

Heather entered without knocking, her gaze fixed on a piece of paper she had in her hands.

John tried to get away as fast as he could from Paul, while Paul awkwardly jumped down from the desk and let go of John's hand.

However, they didn't really think they had done it fast enough, because all that noise caught the attention of the woman who looked up just in time to see their hands move away from each other.

"Yes, Heather? Everything’s alright?" John asked, blushing and trying to be indifferent to what had just happened.

His heart, though, was beating so fast that his head was spinning. How much did Heather see?

"Er..."

Enough to understand everything, apparently.

"I... I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I just wanted to er... give you these tickets, John."

The woman returned to look at the envelope in her hands, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh, thank you, what is it?"

"Two tickets for a concert by two of my German friends." Heather said, the voice still trembling, "You know, they're having a lot of success. She plays the violin and he plays the cello. They gave me some tickets, but I just can't go and I thought you might be interested."

Heather handed him the envelope with the tickets, finally looking at Paul, who looked away embarrassed.

"Thank you very much, Heather. I'm definitely have to go the." John said, taking the envelope from her hands.

"Then I'd like you to tell me what you think after the concert."

John nodded vigorously, "Of course."

"Then I'll leave you. I’m very sorry to have interrupted you." she said with a little smile.

God, the questions rushing in her head at that moment were so powerful that they seemed to be present right there, in the room among them. Paul could perfectly feel their presence. And yet all three of them were avoiding them on purpose. It was absolutely the best thing to do, at least at that moment.

"Don't worry."

"See you tomorrow, guys."

John and Paul greeted her with a forced smile, until she disappeared behind the door.

"Fuck!" Paul blurted out, right after, with his hands in his hair, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

John turned to him, almost amused by his reaction, "Hey, relax, Paul, it's not a tragedy."

"Yes, it is. It's a potential catastrophe."

"Maybe she didn't even see anything."

"Are you fucking serious, John? You saw her, too. She had written on her face 'what the fuck is going on here' in capital letters with Las Vegas effect all around." Paul blurted, pointed foolishly at the door.

John shrugged, receiving an indignant look from Paul.

"So what? What's the problem? It's the 2013, Paul, do you think they're still all churchy cavemen?"

"No, but... the school, John, we've spent all our savings on it."

John frowned, puzzled, "What does the school have to do with it?"

"If the kids and their families knew about us they could... I don't know, make a fuss? Pull back their kids, maybe."

"Paul, come on."

But Paul ignored him, continuing his catastrophic monologue.

"And then the voice would spread and no one would join up and we would be ruined in an instant."

"Good heavens. All this just because I was holding your hand?"

John chuckled, intent on downplay, but evidently he didn’t achieve the desired effect. In fact, it only made the whole situation worse.

"Damn, John, stop doing this, it makes me nervous."

And John just couldn't hold back.

"And you stop saying bullshit, Paul. You're ridiculous sometimes."

Snorting, he decided to go back to sit at the desk. Paul looked at him with an incredulous and resentful look. How the hell could he be so quiet in spite of what had just happened? It was something that made him so angry!

"Oh really? And you're naive if you take this thing too lightly."

"Am I considering it too lightly?" John repeated, surprised.

"Of course, as you've always done in your life, haven't you?"

John didn't think before answering. He didn't think at all.

"No more than you, my dear, or maybe you forgot all the times I misled you?"

And even before he could see Paul's wounded expression, John knew right away that he had just said bullshit. A colossal bullshit, something he would never, ever have wanted to say, something he certainly didn't think.

So he wasn't at all surprised by the way Paul stared at him with a glacial, indignant look, before turning and leaving, slamming the door.

He had been an asshole, once again he ruined everything with Paul. He was a hopeless case, that's what he was. Of course, it wasn't the first time they had a fight, but it was the first time that their past came back and they blamed each other for everything they had done.

God, John wondered how Paul could still be with him, after everything John had done, the way he lied to him and teased him, how he made him lose his job.

Yet Paul was still there, with the same feelings, and it took John a moment to ruin everything they had built in those years. As always, just one second as the old, bastard John Lennon and _puff_! Everything was shattered.

John sat in his chair, looking hopelessly at the envelope with the tickets Heather had given him.

He only hoped to be able to solve with Paul as easily as he had ruined everything.

****

Paul couldn’t sleep for all the night. And not because the bed wasn't his, that had had a very little impact on his insomnia.

It was John's fault, of course. How could he say all those terrible things?

But it was nothing that could surprise Paul again. John could be adorable as well as a big dickhead. And when he became a dickhead, he definitely knew where to hit you, where it would hurt the most.

The problem was that... even Paul had his pretty good amount of faults. He was still convinced that coming out at school wasn't a good idea, but he should never have accused him of being naive, not in that way at least. John must have been agitated and came out with that statement.

And now there he was, at Jim's house, trying for hours to sketch out his, or rather, _their_ teaching method. He thought of trying to work right away, to distract himself, but John and their fight came back in his head so often that it prevented him from focusing.

Paul had run to his father the night before, not to see John and take part in a more than likely second round.

Yet even though Jim left him alone throughout the day, his gaze made it clear to him that running away like that wasn’t the solution. Paul was no longer a child, he had to face his responsibilities, and 'living together' definitely required a lot of responsibility. Especially if there was also a child in the middle.

He wondered what kind of excuse John told Julian to explain his absence.

He also wondered if he was really ready to have another baby, his own. With John.

Perhaps John could help him mature for the next phase of his life.

It was absurd, but if he thought about it... yes, John had been a thief, he ran away after his thefts, but heck! He had never run away from his responsibilities. He took care of Cynthia when she got pregnant, of Julian when the woman left them, and he was ready to be arrested to save Paul. And Paul, Paul the bobby, ran away. When John expressed his feelings to him, when he discovered his real identity, Paul saw the escape as his only salvation.

But he and John promised each other never to run away from each other again. And he wouldn't break his promise.

He left his silly sketches, knowing too well that he would need John to work on the new project, and after thanking his father for the hospitality, he walked in the direction of his home.

He didn't know exactly what he was going to say to John when they would see each other again. He wasn’t even sure that his pride would allow him to apologise and forget what happened, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

When he arrived, he called John first, then Julian, then John again. But no one answered. Worried, he started looking room by room, but apart from Elvis and Pepper there was no living soul in that house. He also checked his mobile phone, in case John left him any messages, but even there he found nothing.

He decided to go straight to school: it was still open, even though it was late afternoon.

However, he stopped himself when he spotted a white envelope next to the phone at the entrance. Above, John had written, with his unmistakable messy handwriting, _'For Paul'_. Paul hurried to open it and found only a ticket.

It was a ticket to a concert of classical and contemporary music. It must have been one of those Heather had given John when she caught them in her office. There were two of them, but there was only one in the envelope. Which inevitably meant that John had the other one and he wanted him to go to the concert. The show was called "_Two of Us_" and would be held shortly at the Chelsea Theatre.

Paul sighed, turning the ticket in his hands. Above there were two young people, a man and a woman, in a black-and-white photograph: the girl had a plump face and was all intent on playing her violin, while the boy next to her, with more marked features and beautiful hair, looked at her, playing the cello.

They had a charm of the past, as if they had been catapulted into a dimension that wasn’t the one they belonged to.

Now that his relationship with music had definitely changed, Paul found himself wondering with sincere interest what kind of show could do two young people that looked so particular.

And looking at the ticket again, he finally decided whether to go or not.

****

John looked at his watch. There were only ten minutes left until the show started and Paul hadn't shown up yet.

He wondered if he would come. God, he hoped so.

No, it wasn't just a hope, it was a certainty. He knew Paul and knew he was coming not only for John, but also for the concert. After all, that's why John left him the ticket with no message. The music united them from the first meeting, and it would reunite them again this time. Forever.

John turned looking for a familiar face among the spectators who were sitting, but there was no trace of Paul.

For an instant he regretted he hadn’t tried to call him that day. He knew he went to his father, because Jim called him the night before to warn him, and John hadn't even tried to contact him, thinking that both of them would have to calm down a little bit before seeing each other again.

But what if Paul got mad because John didn’t even try to look for him and didn’t come? Or what if he didn't even go home and find the ticket?

Maybe it really went that way. Damn, the lights were going out, and there was no sign of Paul. John quickly checked his mobile, but there was no message.

He could never let another day pass without making up with him after their discussion. So he was about to get up and leave, when he saw Paul entering the row of their seats, with annoyed faces from the spectators next to them who were forced to get up.

He smiled in disbelief at him, returning to sit down, when Paul sat next to him.

"Were you going somewhere?" Paul asked.

"I thought you wouldn't come."

"Well, it was a pity to waste these tickets."

Then he brought his gaze to the stage, while the audience applauded, and John nodded, the stupid smile still alive on his lips.

He was so happy that Paul was there with him that he didn't think long before stretching out a hand to take Paul's, abandoned on the armrest between their seats. That’s why he was surprised and hurt when Paul pulled back his hand, carrying it on his lap, while in the background a cello began to play _Greensleeves._

John looked at the stage: there was a young man with thick dark, dishevelled hair playing in the middle of the stage. He wore a black suit, shirt and trousers, and he was surrounded by darkness and illuminated only by a light. 

His name, as written on the poster, was Klaus Voorman, and as simple as he was in appearance, he immediately caught John's attention, mainly because he had his eyes closed as he played. John had never seen anyone play with their eyes closed. It always gave him the feeling that by closing his eyes, he was transported to another dimension, a much more beautiful one than reality, and all this just by playing. It was fascinating to see.

The man was sure in his movements, his hands moving decisively and delicately, stroking the cello with the bow, playing a suffering melody that struck John straight to the heart. It almost felt like his skillful fingers on the strings were actually pulling the strings of his heart.

The song ended and the audience applauded. However, Klaus made no gesture of thanks and stood motionless with his eyes closed and his bow suspended on the strings. And although John had always thought that kind of instrument, the string, were just for loser people, he began to think he was wrong. Those instruments had a potential.

When the applause ended, Klaus started playing again, this time a song whose title John didn’t know, but the melody was well known to him. It was a simple succession of prolonged notes. He checked on the program, and he had just read Pachelbel's _Canon in D Major,_ before a very different sound caught his attention again.

Klaus's solo was joined by a sharper melody: it was the same one played by the cello, only much more lively and brilliant. At that moment Klaus finally opened his eyes and in the spotlight a girl appeared, playing the violin. Astrid was her name and she seemed nice with her rounded face and short blonde hair. She wore a suit very similar to her partner and played sublimely.

When she appeared Klaus opened his eyes and kept the background melody, the base, the support of the performance, while Astrid continued to brighten up her theme with different variations and embellishments, moving around the young man.

As if they were completing together.

John found himself smiling stupidly. It reminded him a lot of his situation with Paul. John was all alone before his arrival, like that melancholy cello, and then Paul arrived and brought the sun and beauty into his life, just as that sweet and lively violin was now doing.

The two guys searched for each other and teased each other throughout the concert: a round up of songs that wanted to represent the evolution of music, from the oldest melodies to the more recent ones, from Mozart to Elvis.

John couldn't take his eyes off them, there was something fascinating about the way they moved and looked, the way they interacted, they looked for each other, as if there was a complicity that no one could understand. He wondered if they were partners not only on stage, but also in life. It was a question that probably all the spectators were asking themselves.

Whatever it was that tied them up, it worked. And God, everything that came out of those two guys was so familiar that John felt enraptured. A tingling took hold of his hands, encouraging him to make his move towards Paul, who had his eyes well fixed on stage.

John looked at his perfect profile, illuminated by the only two spotlights focused on the pair of performers: his eyes twinkled, his lips were parted and...

And then Astrid and Klaus started playing _Can't Help Falling in Love,_ and that was enough to convince John.

His hand moved again and confident, until it found Paul's.

Paul gasped at the contact, as if he had just caught by surprise. He had been so absorbed in the music that he certainly didn't expect John's hand to look for his again.

Perhaps more by surprise than anything else, he instinctively tried to pull away his hand, again avoiding John's grip, but the other didn’t give up this time.

"Paul, please." John whispered, heartily.

And Paul gave in, letting John intertwine their fingers and hold his hand for the final part of the concert.

When _Behind blue eyes _started_, _he was happy that John's hand was holding his. He knew that song, John made him listen to it a long time before, and he always thought it perfectly represented their past.

He was wrong. It was also perfect for their present.

Even though they had found happiness, there was always that mask they wore to hide from the eyes of those who didn’t know them. And it was a heavy mask to wear, Paul knew it well and hated forcing John to wear it too. However, he was certain that if they exposed themselves too much, they would ruin everything, the school and themselves.

John was basically a dreamer, he thought he was living in a world where everything he did was right, in a world where all he needed was love. And although Paul changed thanks to him and somehow he made John's perception of life his own too, actually Paul was still the man with his feet firmly planted on the ground.

And he was certain it was still too early to expose themselves. They needed some stability for their family, for their school, before sharing their situation with their little world.

Paul sighed, letting the melody of the two young guys on the stage reverberate in him, reaching the center of his fears.

It seemed to want to tell him something. It seemed to want to tell him that despite everything, even though he felt that way, he shouldn’t be afraid of his feelings and dreams. Because, come on, it was obvious, he had his dreams too, and he would be a liar if he didn’t admit that they matched John's. Having a family, a child of their own, being able to go on trips, or even just walks without thinking about what the people who saw them could say. It was a real dream.

It was as if the show was whispering to him that his dream was possible, that he just had to rely on John because to dream, as if to make music, one person was enough. But to make it come true and make everything more precious two people were needed.

And there he was, Paul feeling like that cello, lonely and sad, but John... John was the violin that had brightened up his life, bringing the sweetest melody Paul had ever heard.

Looking at their intertwined hands and smiling at him in the dark, even though John couldn't see him, Paul realized that he could never do without John and his music.

Whatever happened.

****

Although they were already at the end of April, that night was quite chill.

Paul squeezed his scarf around his neck as he let John lead him home through the streets of Chelsea. His hand was still holding Paul's. He hadn't left it for a single moment since Paul let him, as if he was afraid Paul would run away again. But Paul had absolutely no intention of doing so.

Of course, he still felt some tension between them. John hadn't spoken since the end of the concert. They walked in silence, listening only to the noises of the city all around them. Paul, for his part, didn't really know what to say. Yes, okay, he should have apologized, but it was hard now. How was he supposed to start? He wanted John to know how sorry he was for what he told him. But at the same time, he also wanted to make it clear that he didn’t change his mind about the rest. Not yet at least.

"I thought..." John said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the pavement.

Paul stood beside him, looking at him curiously for the abrupt stop, "What?"

"I thought I haven't given you my answer yet."

Paul didn't need to ask him what he was referring to. He just knew it, and his heart missed a beat.

"Oh. And...?"

"And if you're still in it, I'm in too."

John didn't have time to finish talking, because Paul immediately threw his arms around his neck, clutching at him so much that John had to cling to his back so as not to lose his balance.

"Thank you." Paul whispered, hiding his face in John's cheek, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

John laughed softly, shuddering at the tickle caused by Paul's breath, "Better than yesterday's _fuck_, isn't it?"

"Way better."

Without thinking twice, and especially without thinking about the fact that they were in the middle of a street where anyone could see them, Paul kissed him softly, but also passionately, as John liked.

John murmured happily, kissing him back for a few moments before pulling away from him and taking his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I've said stupid things that only a jerk like me could say."

"Or someone like me." Paul added, closing his eyes and bringing their foreheads together.

They had only spent one day apart, yet Paul felt like he hadn’t seen him nor enjoyed his closeness for months. Maybe fighting in that stupid, _fucking stupid way!, _made everything more unbearable.

But Paul didn't want to think about it. Not now that he finally had John in his arms, not now that John made that night beautiful with a few simple words.

"And I wanted to say that I respect your decision not to say anything about us, and I'll wait for you to be ready."

Paul smiled to himself, his fingers caressing John's hair on his nape to bring him closer to him, "Thank you, John."

"Though, let me tell you..." John continued, looking at him mischievously, "But jumping on me in the middle of the street goes a little against your ideas. We're a bit hypocritical, aren't we?"

Paul snorted amusedly, and gave him a pat on his head, "Stop it."

"It's true though." John protested, grimacing.

But Paul ignored him and took him by the hand, starting to walk again.

"Let's go home."

[Evolution of music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g7EwE6ztlg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry, I'm so sorry, too much delay this time. I have no words... I don't know, it's a stressful period, I come back hom and after having dinner, I'm too much tired to translate.   
Anyway, I've done and I'll try to be punctual. ç_ç  
This is an important chapter, also because the show has a very important part and about that, I was inspired from the video you can find at the end of the chapter, Evolution of music. I love it. <3  
Ok, that was about the chapter, I'm also happy because finally, Paul is coming back to Italy next year and I've got the tickets for the Naples concert. I can't wait to see him singing Volare and O' sole mio. My goodness! *^*  
Thank you very much by now, and next chapter will be... "I don't want to face it". And that takes us to an important thing, which is the rating of this story. Yes, there will be a couple of sex scenes during the story... oops! ^///^   
That said... ciao ciao!  
Chiara


	6. I don't want to face it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sex scene in this chapter!

So John said yes.

God, Paul still had a hard time believing it. Since the night John had given him his answer, Paul had done nothing but walk with his head in the clouds. He knew there was a long and difficult path in front of him, but now he was certain that he would face it with John and it didn't scare him anymore.

Of course, now and then he still had his doubts. For example, would John have been really happy to take care of a child who wasn't biologically his? And most importantly, if Paul was the first to be afraid of people's reaction to their situation, what would become his kids? What would they have to face in their life?

Maybe that was a simple whim to Paul. Was he selfish?

No, he had already thought about it and decided that no, it wasn’t a whim and it wasn’t selfish to want a son. It was his primary goal right now, and he could very well care about people. Wasn't that what John told him?

And he was sure that thanks to this, he could overcome all his fears of showing himself even at school. Yes, in the end it would have been inevitable.

But most of all, as much as Paul was happy that John told him he agreed, he wanted them to share their plans with Julian, and that he was excited too to have a little brother. Paul really wanted him to consider the new baby his sibling. After all, they were a family, a little different from the traditional one, or presumed as such, with two people who loved each other and loved their children, and there were also two cats and a house full of music. For John, that had always been the idea of family, and Paul found himself fully sharing it. No one could ever say otherwise about their family.

Smiling, he relaxed on chair of John's office. He went out to do some stuff and left to Paul the task to close the school.

They hadn't been able to meet Heather yet nor to talk to her about what she had seen. John told him she was off for some days, and they didn't need to give her any explanation anyway. However, Paul wasn’t of the same opinion, and felt the need to clarify at least with her and try not to spread the word.

Hoping it wasn't too late.

At that thought he realized it was already late. He spent the last few hours fixing his drafts on the didactic method. He worked hard and created a plan to follow and now he really felt he had to take a break. The day had also been pretty hot and he was all sweaty. So, with the school now empty, he decided to go home. He collected all his notes and locked the office. He had just went out on the street when he found himself in front of someone whom he never thought to see again.

"Inspector Starkey?"

Paul could recognize that moustache and that nose anywhere. It was really his former boss!

"Good evening, McCartney."

If Paul thought about that time of his life now, it almost made him laugh. Of course, he had been very angry with everyone during those days, for putting him aside and pushing him away, but right now nothing mattered anymore. He was happy to have worked with them, because they had led him to what was _now_ his life.

"I’m glad to see you again." he said, shaking his hand, "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. You?"

"Wonderfully. Everything good at the police station?"

Richard shrugged his shoulders carelessly, "Usually, from time to time some thug get us busy, but otherwise we can't complain."

Paul nodded as the man told him the last interesting cases they had solved, and when a particular question crossed his mind, he couldn’t hold back.

"What about Hermes?"

There was no point in being afraid, right? There was no clue leading to John. After all, nothing had happened until then.

"Unfortunately, since we returned all the stolen goods, we haven’t had any other news. He seems to be vanished into thin air."

_Thankfully._

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever. After all the world is full of unsolved cases, right?"

Paul agreed, with a little smile when he thought that this, after all, wasn’t really an unsolved case. In fact, he was the only one who solved it.

"I suppose so."

"Anyway, I'm not here to talk about that." Richard said at last.

"Sure, sir."

"First of all, what would you say if we started calling each other by name?" He proposed, with a happy smile, "We are no longer at the police station."

"And we are certainly no longer colleagues. Seems fine to me, Richard."

"Thank you, Paul."

Paul chuckled to himself. Of course, it would have been strange to call by name a man who had been his superior, but he would get used to.

"Then, do you need something?"

"Well, you see, Paul, I heard that when you didn't accept the transfer, you stayed here in London."

"I did."

"And is it also true that you opened a music school? "

"I did that too. In my old apartment." Paul answered, pointing to the door he had just closed.

Richard nodded, thoughtfully, "That's what I wanted to talk about. I'd like to enroll two of my children in some instrument classes next year."

"Oh, have you thought which instruments yet?"

"Yes, we thought drums for Zak and flute for Lee."

"How old are they?"

"Zak is eight, Lee six. We wanted to have some information about the lessons and the school."

"It's definitely the perfect age to start with. Unfortunately now the school is closed for today, but I give you a list of our courses, so you can read them calmly. And if you give me your phone number, I'll call you back and explain everything."

"Oh that's fine."

"I must first talk to John, my roommate and business partner, but I thought we could arrange a dinner at our house, with the professors of the instrument you have chosen. So you can get to know them."

"That would be a very nice idea, thank you."

They exchanged their mobile phone numbers, and Paul left promising to call him back as soon as possible.

He was almost sorry to go away like that, but he was really tired and it didn't seem like he could have a business conversation in that state. All he needed was a nice relaxing shower.

When he returned home, he abandoned all his stuff at the entrance and headed upstairs. He turned on the radio, put on the shower and got naked completely before getting in and letting himself be freshed out by the water. He stood a few moments still so, passing his hands in his hair to make it wet, while in the background Janis Joplin sang her _Maybe_.

Oh yes, that was definitely what he needed. The water flowed softly over his body washing away all the dirt and stress of those days, while the music took him by the belly, making him shiver and relax.

He was so absorbed and totally relaxed that just didn’t hear the bathroom door being opened lightly, nor small steps approaching.

He only opened his eyes when he heard someone open the door and enter the shower with him. His heart lost a beat in a frightening way, while Paul turned around, but he was immediately pushed against the shower wall.

"Hello, beauty."

_"John!" _he said relieved to recognize that voice, but still upset, "Fuck, John, you scared me!"

John chuckled on his wet neck and continued to press him against the wall, "Who did you think I was? Psycho?"

Paul tried to relax after the fear, "Someone much more monstrous. Like Alien."

"Ohw, Paulie, I thought you needed help washing your back."

When John's hands put some pressure and moved on his hips in the way Paul knew very well, he smiled to himself, "No, thank you for the thought, but I can do it all by myself."

John snorted annoyedly, touching Paul's shoulders with the tip of his nose, and then with his moustaches. Paul shuddered beneath him for the tickling and for some less innocent reason. He let John hold him against the wall, while his hands moved over his buttocks, following up and down their perfect curve.

"Are you sure?"

John's voice was deep and full of arousal, and Paul chuckled softly, gasping a little as John wrapped his arms around his waist, holding him tight.

"If you know a way to convince me otherwise, I'll be happy to listen to you."

In response, John's hands pushed him backwards, so that Paul's ass fitted perfectly with John's groin. Paul clung his hands to the wall in front of him as he pushed his body backwards toward John. He sighed satisfied when Paul tilted his head to let him kiss and bite his neck and began to breathe with more difficulty.

"Fuck!" Paul murmured suddenly, turning to John in his arms,"Maybe I need some help, afterall."

John burst out laughing, "You're so predictable, darling, and you've got decidedly little resistance."

"It's not my fault." Paul muttered and wrapped his arms around his neck, brushing John's moustache with the tip of his nose, "It must be fault of this adorable moustache." 

Then he gave him a pout that he knew John would find irresistible and he looked at him amusedly, before shaking his head to let a few drops fall and kissing him passionately. John pushed him so his back was against the wall, while Paul put his fingers in John's hair, squeezing them and pulling him closer. A shiver ran all over John's back, when the drops of water glided over his skin, and instinctively his hips jerked forward against Paul's.

The man groaned openly, and John took advantage of it to tease Paul's earlobe again, gently biting it and kissing a spot right behind, where Paul was most sensitive. When another groan, a stronger one, escaped Paul's lips, John slipped into the hollow of his neck, sucking the wet, soft skin all the way, to his chest, where he focused with particular attention on one of his nipples.

He chuckled at himself, while Paul was all writhing and groaning beneath him. He thought he had a good idea to sneak into the shower, while Paul was there. When he saw Paul with his former boss outside the school, he was initially frightened. He stopped just at the beginning of the road to look at them. Paul was smiling, so John relaxed too. Their meeting probably had nothing to do with John's past, or rather, the past of both.

However, he waited for the two to leave, before resuming his journey to their apartment. When he got home, he tried to call Paul to know what Inspector Starkey had told him, but the noise coming from the shower made him realize that Paul heard nothing. He ran upstairs, and noticing Paul's clothes scattered all over their room, he smiled mischievously as that idea passed through his head.

He hadn't thought twice before undressing and assaulting him in the shower. After all, it was a stressful time for both of them, what with the work, the new composition project and the preparations for the arrival of a new child. John really needed a moment like this, just for them, to find each other, to stop and let everything out of that shower. A moment where the only thing that mattered was just to feel the other as close as possible, to get lost in each other until they remembered nothing else.

When Paul muttered his name, clutching his fingers between his hair as if to call his attention, John laughed and wasted no more time before grabbing Paul's buttocks by lifting up his legs, so that they would wrap around his waist. He took him against the shower wall and gently kissed his shoulder; he began to move with an urgent rhythm, following the song and making Paul sigh and moan.

The water kept flowing and sliding over their bodies, making everything wetter and a hundred times more exciting. Paul held John closer as much as he could, while with one hand he clung to the pipe of the rainshower, to prevent them from slipping. And God, it was a risk with all that water and John's hard thrusts and Paul's wet back slipping easily on the tiles and...

"Oh fuck!"

Paul threw his head backwards when John began to claim him faster, but his nape hit the wall and he had to thank the too much pleasure that was building up quickly in him if he felt no pain. John just laughed, without slowing down his movements, and began to kiss him everywhere on his face, chin, jaw, nose, mouth...

Until a wave of pleasure caught them both, shaking them and making them cringe violently, in each other's arms. John leaned on him, sighing satisfied and trying to catch his breath, while Paul rubbed his face in his hair by carelessly murmuring a melody.

"You're really bad at helping people wash, you know." he murmured at last.

John burst out laughing in the crook of Paul's neck and, regaining some control over his own legs, he pulled away from him, allowing Paul to return with his feet on the ground.

"You're perfectly right."

They finished washing quickly, while Paul told John about the conversation with Richard. When they came out of the shower and dried in bathrobes, John agreed to invite all the Starkeys to dinner, on one condition.

"Just don't talk about you-know-who."

Paul rubbed his hair with a towel and smiled at him, "If you don't talk about it, I won't, and be sure Richard definitely won't too."

"All right." John said, stealing his towel to rub his hair. 

"Besides there will be Pete and Heather, I mean, I very much doubt that it will come out as something to talk about."

"Speaking of it... do you really want to invite Heather?" John asked, his voice was cautious.

After all, it was still an open and delicate question, for their conflicting views on it. Paul seemed sure to want to explain to her the nature of their relationship at all costs, probably to ask her to keep her mouth shut with their colleagues.

"Of course, but first I wish I could talk to her about what she saw, you know, to explain it."

"Are you sure?"

"I am, as I'm sure she’ll understand." Paul said, confident.

"It won't be as easy as you think."

Paul nodded, shrugging, "No, but I must do it, now she's seen us."

John sighed, lowering his towel around his neck. He didn't like Paul being so naïve about it. It was a contradiction: not wanting to talk to anyone about their relationship, but in the meantime trusting a woman who was far too brazen for John. Perhaps it was because Paul didn’t see what John had seen in her, while they were talking about him. Or perhaps Paul was sure of his own feelings, while John was always so darn insecure.

John who lived with the constant fear of losing him.

"Ok, Paul."

"It’ll surely be all right, don't worry."

John looked at him hesitantly before nodding, and Paul grabbed the flaps of his towel and drew him to kiss him tenderly.

No, John wasn't worried. Not for Paul at least.

It was someone else that worried him.

****

Okay, Paul knew it was going to be hard, but... _God!_ He didn't believe that much.

Right now he was outside Heather's room. He had waited for her last student to come out before approaching the door and for five good minutes he had been staring at the handle without finding the courage to grab it and open it.

If John had been with him, he probably would have teased him, thinking he didn't have enough courage to move on.

But Paul had it, the courage! Of course he did.

And it was John's thought that convinced him to move. So he knocked on the door, and when Heather said, "Come in," he walked in firmly, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, Heather.”

"Paul." she said, "What a surprise!"

Paul looked at her closely, noting that she was truly surprised, and he could almost see in her eyes how at that very moment she was thinking of what she had seen between him and John.

What Paul wanted to talk about.

"I'm sorry to bother you." he hastened to say, noticing his sudden uneasiness.

Heather made a vague gesture with her hand, smiling faintly, "Don’t worry about that."

"Can you give me five minutes to tell you something?"

"Of course, what’s the matter?" the woman asked, sitting with a small leap on a bench and inviting Paul to sit next to her.

Paul took a deep breath before doing so, "First of all I wanted to thank you for the tickets you gave John. The concert was amazing. I've never seen anything like that."

"I know, I'm glad you liked it. They really deserved it."

"Absolutely. And you know, John was so excited about the concert that the next day he found their email address and wrote to congratulate. He really wanted to do that because you know, we just didn't have time to talk to them that night."

"I'm happy to hear it, but... does this mean you two guys went together, right?"

Heather's question was asked with extreme caution, and Paul felt his heart skip a beat. That was it, damn. How idiotic he was! He didn't feel so anxious when he confessed to Mike that he was having a relationship with John. Maybe because he basically knew Mike would understand, as his brother. Or maybe because on that occasion he wasn't jeopardizing his job... for the second time.

"Yes, and that brings us to the reason I wanted to talk to you." Paul said, lowering his gaze on the tortured hands on his lap.

"You're together, you and John, aren't you?"

Paul nodded, biting his lip, "That's it. What you saw in John's office... it was nothing untoward, I can assure you."

Heather shook her head with a smile, "You don’t have to justify to me, Paul."

"But I wanted to explain."

"It’s true, I didn't really expect it.” She admitted, with a melancholy expression, "When I saw you that day, I couldn't believe it. I thought you were... you know..."

Paul smiled to himself, softly, "I thought that too, before I met John. But you see, you never know what can happen in your life. You think you have certainties, dreams, and then something happens, you meet someone who changes everything. I had a girlfriend when I met John, I had a job that I loved, I was a totally different person, but John's arrival turned everything upside down. And all of a sudden I found myself falling in love with a man, losing my job and building a new life with John, a totally different life from what my dreams were."

"And are you happy?" the woman asked.

"Yes, very much."

"If that's the case, I'm sorry I told you all those things a long time ago, about the family and the kids and..."

"No problem." Paul interrupted her, resting his hand on her shoulder, "You couldn’t know the truth and anyway, it helped me understand some things."

"Like what?"

"That I want all those things, but I want them with John."

"It sounds like a beautiful idea."

"It really is, and indeed I thank you for talking to me."

Heather smiled, "You’re welcome."

"Also I wanted to ask you a favour. Could you please keep this to yourself? No one else in the school knows about us."

"None?"

"No one but you now." He pointed out, winking and making her barely giggle.

"Why?"

"You see, I'm not ready to share this story with our colleagues and the whole school."

"And what does John think about it? Does he agree?"

"He doesn't care much about what people think, he'd even be able to write an official statement and hang it on the board." Paul exclaimed, laughing, "The problem is that I'm afraid people aren't ready, or willing to enroll their children in our school if they knew everything. And I really don't want to fail in this job because I really love it."

"You're perfectly right, Paul. And anyway, it's about your private life, other people have nothing to do with it."

"Thank you very much. I mean, seriously." Paul said, slightly clasping his fingers over her shoulder, "By the way, after you saw us that day, we fought again over this matter."

"No way. I’m very sorry to hear it." 

"But then we made up right away." Paul reassured her, ignoring the beats of his heart that stirred at the memory of that day and what they said, "Now it's all right."

"Luckily, then.” Heather commented, staring intently at Paul, "It's kind of a taboo subject, I understand."

"Quite enough, we can even talk about it without arguing, but each of us always stands for his ground."

"And at school of course no one suspects anything because they have never seen you in, let's say, affectionate attitude."

"That’s right, that time was just a case." Paul hurried to point out, "And anyway we were relatively safe."

Paul winked at her and Heather laughed, holding a hand to her mouth.

"Don’t worry, Paul, my mouth is shut on your secret."

"Thank you very much."

"Thank you for talking to me."

Paul looked at her for a moment before jumping down, again with his feet on the floor, ready to leave the room.

"Before I forget…" he said, turning to her, "We’re inviting my ex-boss with his family on Saturday for a dinner. They would like to enroll their children in the school, and the little girl would like to learn to play flute. I thought it would be nice if you could come too, so you can talk to them and answer their questions."

"Oh, it would be delicious. Did you say on Saturday?"

"Yes."

"I'll definitely be there."

"Perfect."

That said, Paul took leave and walked out of the room. Once outside he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He had to admit that it had been yes, hard at the beginning, but once he started, everything was alright.

God, he had been so stupid to worry.

Heather was very nice to understand him and assure him of her silence.

Yes, it would have been definitely all right from now on.

****

John filled the glass with wine for the third time and they were only eating the starters.

God, he hated that dinner. He hated that evening in general.

For God’s sake, the company was pleasant... in part.

The pleasant part was represented by the Starkeys: they were a beautiful family, with their three lively little kids who were all busy playing with Julian, instead of eating what John and Paul had prepared. Richard was very different from how John remembered him. Not that he ever spoke to him, but being Paul's boss had always influenced his judgment, first because he was a bobby, a chief inspector actually, then for what they decided to do to Paul.

Now, however, free from all these influences, he had been able to get to know him better and appreciate him. He definitely had a great sense of humor.

His wife Maureen was a lovely woman, with a sympathetic face and long black hair. She didn’t speak very much, but John thought she was simply shy.

Their children, on the other hand, were among the liveliest John had ever seen. Richard explained that the idea of enrolling them in a music school and encouraging them to play an instrument had been recommended by the teachers to help them with discipline. Anyway if Zak and Lee enthusiastically embraced the idea of learning to play a musical instrument, Jason didn't seem as enthusiastic and preferred football to music.

So now Mr. and Mrs. Starkey were talking with Pete and Heather, who were explaining their schedules, the possibility to become a musician once they finished their studies, and what benefits the study of a particular instrument would bring.

John, seated on Paul's other side, often looked at him. He was happy to have the house full of friends, and John knew he was especially happy to have found Richard again. He confessed it to John while they were cooking. It wasn’t so much because he missed his previous job, but rather because of the nostalgia of that period, where yes, everything was difficult and he was still living in the lie of Hermes, but it also represented the beginning of his relationship with John and Julian.

By then John laughed at him for how sentimental he was, and Paul had put on a very melodramatic pout. But that was very normal, a habit that somehow amused both.

John liked to have guests, they gave that little bit of joy and extra life to the house. However there was always a downside when he was with people who, as in that case, knew nothing about him and Paul. John felt forced to play a role that was no longer enough for him: whether Paul's simple friend, or partner, or house mate, or what the hell he was.

And here came the least pleasant part, indeed, decidedly annoying, because he was forced to listen to the questions they asked Paul about his future plans, about having a wife and starting a family.

Come on! People couldn’t really think about anything else? As if there was only that purpose in life!

But more than that, he was forced to witness the pathetic attempts to flirt with that Heather what’s-her-name. Served right in front of his eyes.

It was embarrassing, the way Heather smiled at Paul and touched lightly his arm carelessly and... God, John hated her because even though she knew everything now, she kept going. Now Heather knew everything, or almost, of their story, and she also knew that John couldn’t really react in any way so as not to bediscovered. Which made it even more irritating, if John had to be honest.

Another laugh from Heather at a not-too-funny joke by Paul and John stood up and saying nothing, he began to pick up the dishes.

_Fuck_!

He walked fast toward the kitchen, putting too hard the dishes in the sink.

He was going crazy, and he had no idea how long he was going to last like that. It was better to keep Heather still in the dark about him and Paul. Understanding that she was flirting on purpose with Paul now was scaring John. Not that he could doubt Paul, he just couldn’t. John trusted him.

He didn't trust that woman tough. And most of all, he didn't trust himself.

Because the situations that scared him brought out the worst of him, and John could easily become very dangerous.

John knew it, Paul knew it, everyone knew it and-

“John?!”

The man gasped when Paul joined him in the kitchen, and turned to meet his partner’s big, worried eyes.

"All right?"

John nodded, with a little smile. Fake, of course, but at least he had to try not to make Paul worry, especially at that very moment when they had guests as well as potential customers in the next room.

"Yes, I just made the dishes slip. For a moment I feared I had broken them."

Then he forced himself to laugh, but Paul didn’t seem as amused.

Damn Paul and his ability to read into him.

"Yes, of course."

John clung backwards with his hands to the sink as Paul came closer to him.

Like the most delicious threaten.

"I tell you, it’s just that."

"And my name is Paul McFoolish."

"Well, if you prefer, we can find a way to change your name." John said to him, winking nervously.

Paul smiled resignedly, coming even nearer him and resting a hand on his chest, "John, stop."

Paul's inquiring and determined eyes stared at him long and so intensely that John felt almost naked in front of him. And come on, he had to be used to it after two years...

Instead Paul had this extraordinary ability to easily strip him of all his doubts, like clothes flying away in the middle of making love, before arriving at the center of his fears with the sole purpose of soothing them and his soul in torment.

So his hand flew to cover Paul's.

"Paul... I think..."

But the sound of footsteps approaching and Heather's voice calling Paul pulled them apart again, and soon after the woman appeared in the doorway.

"Do you need a hand with the main course?"

Paul sighed, resigned and defeated, "Yes, thank you, Heather, we could use two more hands."

Then before going to the woman, Paul gave him a long, deep look that just wanted to say, _'It’s not over.'_

Of course, it wasn't over, but that's not what John feared.

He was terribly afraid _of how_ it would end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, I terribly sorry about being so late. I don't what to say, other than it has been a very tough period, what with university, and work, and problems at home (my grandma fell, so we are taking care of her).   
I really hope you're not angry with me.   
I promise I'll try to post the chapters faster. :D  
Now, what do you think about this chapter? And the sex scene too.. ahh °///°  
Next chapter, Struggle. As soon as possible.  
Ciao!!!  
Chiara


	7. Struggle

"Jules, do you want a little brother?"

The child looked up from his bowl of milk and cereal and looked at the two men curiously.

"Or a little sister." Paul added.

"Would you like it, luv?"

Julian continued quietly to eat, before replying, "Can we play together?"

"Of course, darling, you’ll be their older brother. You're going to have to teach them all the games and jokes to do to your dads." John replied, winking at him and receiving an affectionate reproach from Paul.

"Do they have to play with my toys?"

"Well, you can play together if you want."

"And is their mother going to be here too?"

Paul looked at John. Surely they both expected that question to come out, but John knew just as well that Julian was a very smart kid and would understand everything they had told him. After all, he knew what kind of relationship John and Paul had, he understood it the way a child of his age could understand it. Two people who loved each other so much that they went to live in the same house. So John had no doubt that his son would have no problem accepting that new part of their life together.

"No, they'll have the two of us." Paul explained softly, "They’re going to have two dads."

"You know, luv..." John said, "Some kids instead of having mom and dad, they have two moms or two dads."

“Or only a mom and only a dad.” Paul added.

"I see. But I have a mom and two dads, is it okay anyway?"

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Paul came back to breathe and smiled. It had been easier than expected. They had wondered for several days how they could tell him the news and what was the right time. Then that morning, just after they woke up, John told him he wanted to talk to the child at breakfast.

"There's no point in dillydallying anymore, Paul. We won't get anything if we don't even try." John pointed out, and Paul couldn't help but agree.

If they hadn't risked, they would never have known how the child would react, so why continue to live in doubt? Unlike John, Paul had always feared that it wouldn’t be easy, that Julian wouldn’t understand and would never consider them as a real family. But now, at last, he knew it wasn't so.

"Yes, Jules. It's just perfect."

"And if they need their mother, can I lend them mine?"

Paul bit his lip and almost instinctively stood up to clear the board, while John looked worriedly at him.

God, it was just a simple question from an innocent kid, yet it was enough to send Paul out of phase. What if his kid really missed having a mother? How didn’t he think about it before?

Perhaps he was too busy wanting a child of his own and wanting to raise them with John to think carefully about their real needs. Could he really raise a child without a mother?

"Your mom is just yours, luv." John explained, kneeling before the kid, "And now, why don't you go was your teeth and get your school bag, so as soon as Aunt Pattie and Dhani arrive, you can go to school?"

"All right."

Julian jumped with a small leap to the ground and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs. John sighed, getting up and turning to look at Paul, still busy putting the dishes in the sink.

"I mean, it could have been worse, couldn't it?"

Paul nodded quickly, as if he hadn't really heard it. So John joined him, looking for his hands to stop him.

"I know what you’re thinking. But you don't have to, it won't be so."

"Really? How do you know that?" He asked, turning around and freeing himself from John's grip, "What if they really miss having a mother? They do a lot of small job at school on Mother's Day... "

"Paul..." John tried to stop him, but Paul seemed suddenly unstoppable.

"Maybe I should have thought better and longer, maybe this situation is getting out of our hands and we... "

"Paul, please. " John said, finally finding his hands and holding them tightly, "Stop it now. None of this will happen, because we will take care of him."

"But-"

"But what? If there's one thing I've learned from my years alone with Julian, it's that children need love above all. No matter who it comes from, whoever loves them is part of their family. There are no fixed roles, there is nothing one parent can give more than another. You should know that too, right?"

Yes, Paul thought, finding some calm. He barely nodded, just enough to tell John he understood.

Paul knew. He knew it all too well. When Jim went away, his mother had been able to never make them miss anything, caring for them with love and showing a strength that too often was considered a typical quality of fathers.

"What Julian said though... if their classmates told them the same, when they’re older? What if they make fun of them?"

“Julian is still so little. He said that thing because he's only learning now what it's like to have a mom. But our kid will know us and we will give them everything they need."

Paul bit his lip, looking at him still uncertain, "And you don't care that they won't be yours? Biologically, I mean."

"Do you care that Julian isn’t biologically yours?"

"No. Not at all." Paul hurried to answer.

He didn't need to think about his answer.

"Then, why the fuck did you ask? ‘Course I don’t care." John answered, affectionately hitting his head, "Besides, don't worry, it’ll be my kid too. I'll teach them what music to listen and how to swear, when they’re older, I mean. So, yes, it’ll be my kid for all intents and purposes."

Paul smiled more relaxed. He didn't have to let his fears overwhelm him. They were many and all important, but they couldn’t prevent him from fulfilling his desires, nor ruin them. He just had to trust John and his words and everything would be fine. As always, right?

"I'm sorry, John. I had a little breakdown that brought out all my doubts. I panicked."

"Well, better outside than inside, isn't it? And then I think it's my fault, too, isn't it?"

Paul chose not to answer, but the way he looked down, avoiding John's eyes, made his answer clear to the other man. 

Actually, he had been worrying for John for a while, at least from that dinner with the Starkeys, and he still couldn't figure out why.

"There's one thing that worries me lately, and I think I've passed it on to you in some way." John admitted.

"Yes, indeed. And I'd really like to know what it is."

John sighed deeply and returned to the table to sit in his chair, "It's that woman."

"Which woman?"

"Heather. I think she has a crush on you."

Paul looked at him in disbelief, then let out an amused laugh, "Why do you think such things?"

"Come on, Paul, don't tell me you didn't notice. I did notice you two giggling the other night, as well as her urgent need to fucking touch you all the time." John blurted, crossing his arms over his chest and lowering his gaze.

Paul gasped, noticing John's embarrassment and the way he was slightly blushing, as if ashamed to show that he was...

"Are you jealous?"

John looked up for a second, just in time to cross Paul's eyes, before returning to study the kitchen tiles.

"Oh fuck, you're really jealous!" Paul said, and he couldn't help but find the whole situation incredibly funny and adorable.

"So what?"

Paul laughed softly, before approaching John and kneeling in front of him, "Well, you don't have to. You have no reason."

"Actually, yes, I saw how she looks at you."

"And let her look, I don’t fucking care, you know that?"

"I do care about it though."

"No, you don’t have to, and I want to give you an advice, darling. Get through it, because I need you and I need the 100% of you. So..." he sighed before getting up and kissing him on the nose, "Just trust _me_. All right?"

John nodded hesitantly, and hid his face in Paul’s neck, while the other man laughed and hugged him.

But the idyllic moment lasted very little, as the bell rang, a sign that Aunt Pattie had arrived.

So Paul stood up giving him an encouraging pat on his chin, and walked to the door, while Julian rushed down the stairs.

John looked while the man was moving away.

Yes, he was jealous, bloody jealous, and yes, he was more than convinced that Heather had a crush on Paul.

But Paul was his and he asked John to trust him.

And John wouldn't betray him for anything in the world.

****

_“Who knows how long I've loved you__  
You know I love you still  
Will I wait a lonely lifetime?_ _  
If you want me to, I will”_

Paul looked at the newly written lyrics with his pen and smiled.

He didn't think he'd be writing a new song so soon. After all, _Yellow submarine_ was more of an experiment, a little game for Julian. And, most importantly, John helped him.

But this, _this_ _one_ was being written by him and him alone.

He was in his classroom at school, trying to fool time because one of his pupils had skipped class, due to a bad cold. Waiting for the next lesson with Heather, one of the last rehearsals of Martha and James' duet, he began to strum his guitar casually, and found himself thinking of John and his jealousy, that capricious childish pout that had tightened his heart. Yes, he knew that he shouldn’t have been soft about it, because it basically meant that John didn’t trust him, but he knew John and knew his insecurity and knew very well what power it had over him.

So now, looking back on what John told him, those words were born immediately and he hurried to write them on the first piece of paper he found, a crumpled sheet of empty staves.

They were few verses, and above all he still didn’t have the melody to match, but he was rather satisfied because he felt he was able to compose a song on his own.

A song for John. To reassure him and ward off his useless jealousy.

He had no reason, anyway.

He barely gasped when someone knocked on the door, perhaps too absorbed in his thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened and a mass of blond hair peeped inside, "Hello, Paul."

There she was.

“Hi, Heather.”

Paul sat in his chair, quickly hiding the verses of his new song in his planner.

"I thought we could wait for the kids together." the woman proposed.

"Sure, sit down, please."

Heather smiled as she took her seat in front of him.

"They're very nervous, aren't they? At least, Martha seems so. The other day she made a mistake she had never done."

Paul sighed, nodding, "It's true, James seems nervous too. I can understand them, though, performing in front of an audience always makes your legs tremble. At least, that's what I remember from school. I hated it."

"After a while you get used to it. And then they’re together, they will help each other."

"Maybe, but I'll tell you, I really don't want to be in their place." Paul exclaimed, laughing to himself, "I couldn't stand the thrill of playing in front of so many people anymore."

"You say? But I think you'd be great."

Heather winked in his direction, while her hand rested carelessly on Paul's knee. Paul flinched, suddenly too conscious of feeling her fingers gently tighten his leg.

Now, it was true that Paul had been with John for a few years, but he certainly didn’t forget how people used to flirt. Was John right?

He immediately moved to put aside his guitar. A simple pretext to break up Heather's grip.

"You... thank you."

If she had noticed Paul's discomfort, he couldn’t say for sure. However, he was delighted when she resumed speaking normally.

"Were you playing something in particular? Did I bother you?"

"No, no." Paul replied, embarassed, "I was just strumming without really thinking of something."

"It didn't seem so, though. I mean, it seemed something good."

Paul chuckled, "I doubt it very much, but thank you."

"Were you trying to compose?" Heather asked interested, crossing her legs.

"I told you, it wasn’t anything particularly important. Some sort of song."

"A love song?"

Paul bowed his head, blushing, "Maybe."

"For John?"

Paul looked at her, initially annoyed by the question, because... how could she ask him? But then he thought there was nothing wrong, not even because Heather knew. She was the only one at school who knew about him and John. It made sense that she thought it was a song for John. Besides this could put her off.

"Well, sure. Who else?"

"So, everything is ok between you two?"

"Yes, why?"

"I felt some tension the other day, when, you know, I found you guys in the kitchen."

Heather's tone was careful, as if she were trying not to be inappropriate to Paul's eyes.

"Oh no, it's just that it's a difficult and stressful time."

Paul didn't quite understand why he threw himself justifying John and him, after all it was none of her business, but maybe he was prompted by John's doubt. Like he wanted Heather to understand that there was no hope, in case she was really thinking that...

"Is it due to the school?" she went on, more and more interested.

"It’s due to many things." Paul sighed, "But it's okay anyway, don't worry."

Heather nodded thoughtfully, "I see. I'm sure you'll both relax during the summer holidays and everything will be better."

"Thank you."

"And in the meantime, I know a sure way to make you relax." the woman said, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

"Really?" Paul asked, intrigued, "And what is it?"

"How about going for a drink after class? Maybe a beer. I know a really good new pub!"

"After class?"

"Yes."

Paul bit his lip, thoughtfully. Maybe Heather really believed that by doing so Paul could, somehow, start to like her in that way.

God, what a disaster!

How should he behave now? He should face her about the issue and be clear. But what if he would ruin their relationship? After all they were colleagues and they had to work together. Nothing could ruin the school.

He had to think about it calmly. Meanwhile, the first thing to do was...

"It would be nice and I thank you for asking me, Heather, but John and I promised Julian we'd take him to the cinema. And you know, a promise is always a promise."

"No problem. Next time."

"I'm sorry." Paul said, noting she was quite disappointed.

"You don’t have to be."

When Paul didn't know what else to say, an awkward silence fell into the room, and John's voice warning him about the woman rang out in his mind.

God, he shouldn't have justified himself to Heather. They weren’t dating, they were nothing more than colleagues.

Perhaps he should have simply told her that he couldn’t go out with her later, without explanation of any kind.

_You didn’t have to_, he pointed out in his mind, and unfortunately for Paul, that was said in John's damn voice.

How much he hated John right now, but maybe this time he was really right.

Heather had a crush on him.

****

"Do you think it could be as good as, mh, the first chapter?"

Paul handed John his notes, looking at him with trepidation. They were sitting on the bed, in the midst of a myriad of sheets with diagrams and annotations on what would be their first teaching method for guitar, signed Lennon/McCartney.

Julian had been in his bed for a long time: after the cinema they went to Burger King and Julian played in the children's area, getting so tired that on the way home he fell asleep, on Paul's shoulders. Now they managed to find a moment to take a look at each other's notes.

"It seems perfect to me."

"Really?"

"Of course. Now we just have to put everything into the laptop and especially find someone who wants to publish our method."

Paul laughed before grabbing John by his legs and pulling him towards himself, "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"I don't know. " John said amused, wrapping his legs around Paul's waist, "What will you give me in return?"

"Do I also need to pay you? I thought my eternal love was enough."

John snorted, pinching his cheek, "In your dreams, my dear. I need something more... concrete! You know what I mean."

Paul laughed, but purposely pretended to ignore John's mischievous tone, "Oh well, then how about a song. Just for you?"

John shrugged, disappointed, "It wasn't exactly what I expected to hear, but if it brings us to the same result it’s good as well."

"I started writing something today at school. I was very inspired." Paul explained, very pleased.

"Inspired from what? The wild sex in the shower?"

Paul looked up to the sky when John winked at him cheekily, "Yes, you'd like it, wouldn't you? To enhance your great performance... "

"You can say out loud, darling!" John retorted, "Come on, let me see it."

"No, it's a surprise."

"What kind of surprise is it if you already told me?" John asked, laughing softly.

"It's a half-surprise, then."

"I’ve never had a half-surprise. It must be exciting, I suppose."

Paul smiled, glad to see that John was particularly in a good mood. Maybe his words really hit the target and John calmed down. He felt he had to tell him that John was right about what he was thinking of Heather, but he had no intention of ruining his mood. It was something Paul would have to deal with and solve on his own now.

"You know, John, you should try too."

"Spoiling surprises?"

"No!" Paul said, affectionately hitting his shoulder, "Writing a song."

John snorted, waving his hand in dissent, "Nah, I doubt I'd be able."

"But you've already done it." Paul protested.

John seemed taken aback and looked at him carefully for a few seconds, before going on, "It was different, Paul. We were together."

"But I saw what you were able to do and I'm sure you'd be perfectly capable of writing something on your own."

"Are you sure?" John asked unsure.

Paul smiled encouragingly, and nodded, "Of course. You just have to believe in yourself the way I believe."

How could John believe in himself, when he first couldn’t see anything good? If there was anything good inside of him it was thanks to Paul. How could Paul think that he alone would do something good?

But Paul was sincere, there was no doubt about it, and his words were as well. Paul always thought everything he said and John knew it.

So he smiled faintly, shrugging his shoulders, "All right, boss, but I promise you nothing by now."

"Thank you, John."

"And don't think it's going to be a silly love songs about you, because I don't know if you deserve it." John blurted, poking him on his chest huffily, "What with all your flirting with Heather..."

Paul blushed slightly. At first he was surprised by John's words. He had been all right, until then. But he soon realized that John was just joking. And yes, probably a bit of truth remained, but his attitude was quiet and serene. It was just his stupid way of making fun of him, and Paul loved it.

"John!"

"What?"

Paul shook his head with a smile and pushed him with one hand over his chest. When John fell on the bed on his back, Paul hurried to climb over him, blocking his every movement.

"Stop it, John. "

"Oh, did I make you angry, Paulie? Do you want to spank this naughty boy?" John asked, moving provocatively beneath him.

"I'd love it. But no, I don't think I will."

John immediately flipped the positions, nailing Paul to the mattress, "Then can I?"

"What? Not even in a dream!"

"Pity, that would be a lot of fun." he sighed dreamily, moving away from Paul and lying by his side.

Paul lifted his torso, pointing an elbow to the bed, and looked curiously at him, "Forget it."

John chuckled and positioned himself in the same way to look at Paul, "All right, then, I have an alternative proposal. Less sexy than spanking, but still exciting."

"What is it?"

"Remember those two guys at the concert?" John asked, letting his hand fiddle with Paul's fingers.

"Astrid and Klaus, right."

"Yes, see. They’re having their last gig in England before going back to Germany and it’s going to be in Bath. You know I’ve been mailing them and they invited me to go and see them and meet them. Actually, they invited both of us."

"Ohw, it's very nice and kind of them.” Paul replied, smiling, "When would it be?"

"In the middle of next week. What do you think?" John asked, finally deciding to take Paul's hand with his, "We could be off for a couple of days, just the two of us, and leave Julian with Cynthia. She'd like it."

God, it didn't seem true. John's proposal caught him off guard, in a pleasant way, obviously; it was so tempting and Paul would have wanted so much to go. However he had his kids, and the duet to prepare. He couldn’t get away from London.

"Oh, I'd love to, John, you have no idea, but I have the lessons at school those days."

He couldn't believe he had turned down an invitation from Heather for a date with John and on the same day, he said no to John too because of something that somehow involved Heather as well.

It wasn't happening to him.

"It's only two, maximum three days, Paul. Please."

"John, please, try to understand." Paul began, holding John's hand tightly to reassure him, "My kids are anxious about the concert. I can't leave them now. We’re just few days from the concert and they need me."

John bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something stupid like _'I need you too_'. Instead, he tried to accept Paul's decision, and although he wanted to go, he saw no other solution than writing to Astrid and Klaus to refuse the invitation.

"Then I'll tell them we can't go."

"Wait a minute, John, I said I can't, but you should go."

In fact, the proposal happened at just the right time. John needed to relax, and what better way? One that had to do with music. Meanwhile Paul would solve the “Heather problem” alone, without giving any further thought to John. And that was perfect.

"Not without you."

"Yes, it’ll be good for you. We are going through a very delicate and certainly challenging period and I’d like you to take this break, so you can relax and recharge your batteries. As I told you, I need you to be as strong as you can next months."

"I can't go alone, Paul. There's Julian to look after and the school stuff, and maybe we should also start thinking about compiling the concert setlist."

"I can do that, and if that's okay with you, I'd like to take care of Julian too."

"You and him alone at home?" John asked surprised.

"Yeah, I’ve never looked after a child, alone I mean. And this would be an opportunity to practice. I mean, who’s better than me now that we’ve been living together for a few years?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, trust me, Johnny. I'll give you your son back entirely."

"I have no doubt about it, but I don’t want to charge you with so many things to do while I’m not here."

"Hey, I can do it, you know?"

"I know, Paul." John murmured, falling back on the bed and pulling Paul along on his chest.

Paul smiled as John kissed him on the hair, "So, deal?”

John chuckled. Of course he trusted Paul and knew how good he was with the kids, especially his Julian. It was just, Paul had so much to do, so much thoughts on his head, and John didn't want him to get too tired. That little break would have been perfect for the two of them. But if Paul couldn't, then John would take advantage of it alone. If nothing else, he would be able to help Paul through the difficult months ahead.

He would have done it for him.

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, a new chapter! Finally.  
Again, I'm sorry about the delay. Too many things to do, work, exams. -.-  
Anyway we're going on slowly, but we keep going on, that's the important thing! :)  
Next chapter, How do you sleep?  
Hope you're good anywhere you are! :)  
Ciao!  
Chiara


	8. How do you sleep?

_"Dad, have you bought me a present yet?"_

"Luv, I've just arrived, I'll buy it tomorrow or before I leave."

John chuckled amused on the phone as he was speaking with his baby. He had recently arrived at the hotel in Bath and was putting some clothes in the closet when he realised it was time for Julian to go to sleep. So he decided to call him to say good night.

_"All right, but remember it."_

"If I don’t, won’t you love me anymore?"

_"Right."_

"Oh, I just can't let it."

Julian laughed on the telephone and John was happy to hear his laugh. He had been unsure about his short holiday until the last moment. He had no intention of leaving Paul and Julian just to go to a concert. They were his family, and that didn't really seem like a proper reason to justify his departure.

However, thinking more deeply and mostly thanks to Paul's words, he had convinced himself to go. It wasn't just a stupid holiday, it was a way to break away from everyday life, do something different, something that pleased him, and be free.

And now he was there, alone, in Bath, and Julian on the phone was fine and didn't seem to miss him. Not yet, at least. Julian had been too excited to be alone with Paul for a few days. Maybe because he thought he could watch cartoons at any time and go to bed later and maybe not brush his teeth. But Paul, as a good parent, wouldn't let him do any of that.

"And look, has Paul made you eat so much junk food?" John asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

_"No, he made carrots today." _

"No way!"

_"Yes."_

"I can't believe it. Carrots?" John exclaimed indignantly, "And did you eat them all?"

_"Yes, because if I didn’t, he wouldn't give me dessert."_

"Ah well, fair enough see. And what was it?"

_"Ice cream."_

"Great. Did you brush your teeth well afterwards?"

_"Yes, Dad."_

"And now please, go to sleep, ok?"

_"Will you tell me a story?"_

The man thought about it for a moment. On the phone it would have been difficult to tell a little story to the child, imitating the voices of all the characters.

"Well actually no, luv, but if you close your eyes, I'll say a special good night."

_“Ok, done.”_

John smiled and closed his eyes too, imagining he was in his son's bedroom, holding him as he told him his story and kissed his hair.

“Now it’s time to say good night. Good night, sleep tight. Now the sun turns out his light, the moon begins to shine. Good night, sleep tight. Close your eyes and I’ll close mine, dream sweet dreams for me and for you. Good night, sleep tight.”

The child's voice was very weak when he answered, the little voice of when he was deeply sleepy, _"Good night, daddy."_

And John thought that maybe the lyrics he invented right away had been useful.

He couldn’t tell him one of his funny stories, so he tried to think of something original, to make him understand that he was there with him, that wherever he went, he would always think of him, and that even from a distance he was close to him, with those words, with his love.

_“John?”_

Paul's voice called him from his reflections, and John suddenly became more attentive. He heard Paul's footsteps and a door closing, a sign that he had come out of Julian's bedroom.

"So, I've just left you with my son and you're already blackmailing him with ice cream?" he asked, falling on the mattress.

_"For vegetables this and even more."_

"Is everything going well?"

_"Of course, John, don't worry. How are you?"_

"All right, the hotel is good enough." John answered, smiling to himself for Paul's more than predictable reaction.

_"Hey, I chose it." _Paul protested, deeply outraged, _"Did you have any doubts?"_

"You're right, I forgot I was talking to Miss Flawless."

John laughed as he recalled when, a few days earlier, he and Paul decided to find a decent accommodation for John. Paul had found flaws in every damn hotel they considered. _It's too far from the city center, John. A shared bathroom, John, are you serious? I don't like this area, John. Have you seen what kind of furniture they have, John?_

_"Since when it’s a crime to expect the hotel to be clean?" _Paul pointed out, and John could almost see him take his indignant position with his hand on his side.

"Since you expect the hotel to clean your a-"

_"Anyway!" _Paul interrupted him, _"Have you met the lads yet?"_

"No, I'll see them later at the pub."

_"Oh good. Don't be late though, you're not 20 anymore." _Paul warned, with an amused laugh.

"Shut up you."

_"You need to sleep at your age, you get tired more often and you need more rest." _he went on to the other.

"Yes, of course. Isn't that jealousy?"

_"What?"_

"Jealousy, you know? You're afraid that being out too much I can pick up someone with my mature man charm."

Paul took a while to answer and John thought he was just trying to accept his own reaction: maybe he wasn't as worried as John, but god, if that wasn't jealousy!

_"Nah, you're wrong."_

"Am I?"

_"Of course. Listen, how are you going to pick someone else up when you have a perfect and lovely piece of pure McCartney back home?"_

"But you're not here now, are you? I mean, who's going to satisfy my needs?"

_"Well, for example... your hand?"_

"Oh, Mr. McCartney!" John exclaimed, pretending to be upset, "What have my ears just heard? You're inciting me to obscene acts, you know, inspector?"

_"Anything, so as not to think of you with others." _Paul mumbled, the earnest tone that John knew all too well.

Then Paul had stopped joking in that conversation for a while! John laughed softly, hoping that the other wouldn’t hear him, but he couldn’t really hold himself in front of Paul's show of jealousy.

Ah, how much he enjoyed now that he too finally felt what had tormented John in the previous days.

"Aren't you probably regretting this, baby?"

_"No." _Paul answered immediately, _"I am still convinced that it will do you good. In fact, it will do us good."_

"Then I think I’ll be able to resist. After all, it’s just for a few days, isn’t it?"

_"A few days, that's right."_

"And you'll be able to resist too, inspector?"

_"I will, don't worry." _Paul reassured, and John could sense from his voice that he was smiling quieter now.

He smiled, too, reflexively.

"Now I have to go. Do I have to say goodnight to you too?"

_"Of course!" _Paul snapped, puffing loudly so that John could hear it, _"Don't I deserve it?"_

"You deserve this and much more."

_"’Course I do. And by the way, what did you say to Julian to make him sleep like that?"_

John snapped his tongue, "One day you'll find out, I promise."

_"All right."_

"Goodnight, Paul, sleep tight."

_"Good night, John."_

John ended the call and looked at his cell phone.

Damn, he missed both of them already, but Paul was right. It would have been good for both of them.

For example, at that moment he felt particularly enthusiastic. He didn't quite know what for though. For everything maybe, for having just heard Paul and Julian, or because he was going to meet two exceptional artists, or because he was alone and not afraid. His insecurities seemed less frightening now.

They seemed to have let him go. Which was pretty much a miracle when you thought how paranoid he had been those days.

Not only that, there was something bubbling in him, something that had made him find the words to say good night to Julian. Something good, he could feel it.

So he hastened to write the verses on a piece of paper before going out.

You never know when they would come in handy.

In the form of a song, maybe.

****

The meeting point for that evening was a small but very nice pub in the centre of Bath, _The Raven._ On the sign there was a raven dressed in red which raised his hat with one wing, while with the other he leaned on a walking stick like a real Regency gentleman. As soon as John saw it, he laughed thinking that Julian would love it too. He had to remember to tell him about it.

And then, there he was, in front of a pint of beer chatting with these two guys with a strong German accent. He liked Astrid and Klaus right away: they were kind and funny, and seemed close. Everything John thought of them during the concert he had seen with Paul was absolutely true. They were a couple in life too.

"So our professors insisted year after year for us to perform duets." Klaus said, beginning to tell how he and Astrid had met at the _Hamburg Academy of Music__._

"And I hated him at first!"

John laughed delightedly, "Why?"

"Well, he was the classic popular handsome guy of the cello class, and he always seemed so reserved." Astrid said, "All the girls were in love with him, but he didn't care about anyone. He was a snobby misanthrope, that's it."

"Hey, I just loved my instrument!" Klaus protested amusedly, taking her hand, "And that was before I knew you, darling."

"So studying together for duets over and over, you felt in love in the end…"

"Yes, that's right. Mozart's_ Sinfonia concertante _was all it took_._ We were soloists and we would always find ourselves to rehearse by ourselves, before the orchestra joined and you know, when you get so close to a person thanks to the music, you see something in each other that no one else does."

Astrid's words spoke to a part of John that understood all too well what she meant. Didn't the same thing happen with Paul?

"And so I realized that Klaus was very different from the opinion I had about him. So one day I took courage and asked him out."

"I said yes, as long as she waited after the concert."

"What for?" John asked.

“It was a very important gig for our career, and I didn't want anything to distract us, but at the same time I didn't want to give up on her. So she waited and here we are."

"Oh my God, what a beautiful story! I know exactly what it's like to share your passion with those you love and it's a powerful feeling."

"It really is."

"And you know, a couple of professors of my school organize duets. But I think I’ll insist for everyone to do it more often. Playing together is useful for the kids."

"It's more useful than you think." Klaus said.

"And how is the organization of the concert going?" Astrid asked, enthusiastically.

"Well, I would say, I left up to Paul to decide the setlist. The kids are nervous, but they're all smart. I'm sure it's going to be fine."

"Doing the concert is fine, John, but it doesn't have to be the goal of what they do during all the year." Klaus pointed out to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, kids have to learn to play not because they have to perform at the end of the year in front of their parents. They must learn to play with the ultimate goal of fully learning their instrument, fully knowing how to play it and how to handle it in the best way. That's the only way they can really develop the passion for music and all the skills we get from it."

"Klaus is right, otherwise you'd just risk making them hate the instrument and music." 

John thought back to Paul and his nervous kids for the essay, "So should I repeat it next year?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. After all, it's still a concert and a way to let people know the school."

"It’s just you should ask kids if they really want to perform and especially involve them in the choice of songs to play. This is something that many professors underestimate. Klaus and I choose our own setlist.” Astrid concluded.

“Then if they really want to perform, so that’s when performing is important because they'll feel more excited and encouraged to study and perform.”

"Some professors already do." John said, very proud.

He knew that often some of his professors, Paul, Pete, and Billy, consulted with their students about the songs to play.

"Great then. At this rate your school will train a new generation of good musicians."

"That's what we hope for."

"And it will surely be so."

"I also wanted to ask you if you could advise me someone to publish a method me and Paul are writing." John continued, remembering that he assured Paul that he would take care of this.

"Uh, is that what you mentioned last time?" Astrid asked interested.

"Yes, we need to start looking for a publisher."

"You could try Neil Aspinall. He deals with didactic publications. He has published a lot of the methods we’ve used to study at the conservatory, hasn't he, dear?"

"Yes, it's true. He’s in London."

"It would be very convenient for us." John commented, thoughtful.

"Sure." Klaus agreed, "Remind me that I'll leave you the phone number later."

"Thank you, I'll call him as soon as I get home."

"Did you guys compose anything else besides the song you told us? For the method?" Klaus asked.

"Not really, at least I don't. Paul said he’s started writing a song, but he hasn't let me hear it yet."

"And why?"

"Because it is..." he began to say, blushing and suddenly focusing on his half-empty pint of beer, "It's a song for me."

Astrid smiled, resting her chin on her hand, "Oh, he's a romantic."

"He really is!" John agreed, chuckling to himself.

He wondered if Paul would have protested. Maybe not, after all, he knew how sentimental he was. Fuck, he even chased him to the station so as not to lose him, years before, as in a perfect tear-jerking movie scene. Oh yes, he knew that.

"It's a beautiful thing, though. You're very lucky." Astrid said, winking at him.

"You should try writing a song for him too, now." Klaus added.

“Paul told me so too. I mean, not to write it for him, but just do it."

Klaus nodded, convinced, "And he's absolutely right."

"It's that he's so good. I saw it when we wrote the song for my son. He had a lot of ideas, but I'm not like that."

"Well, it's normal. You just have to try, John." Astrid encouraged him, "By being alone, you'll be able to find your own ideas."

"Alone?"

"Of course, it's nice to share your passions with the person you love. However, it’s also important that everyone has some time on their own, to free our thoughts, to let out our self, because sometimes it happens to suffocate each other."

"Paul doesn't suffocate me." John hurried to point out.

"No, of course not. I didn't mean it as a voluntary thing. From what you’ve told us, Paul had more to do with music than you did, and now that he's back to dealing with it because of you, he's finally unleashing his creative spirit. But you, you have one, too. Maybe you're just afraid to show it because you think, I don't know, Paul is better than you. But if you don't jump, you'll never know how things are."

Was that really so?

Paul had always been so smart, that’s why he impressed him from the first meeting and maybe... maybe yes, John had improved a lot thanks to Paul, but Paul was Paul, and he was wonderful and full of ideas and music now. And John didn't feel up to it.

John didn’t study music like Paul, John had serious lessons only thanks to him and it was mainly Paul who took care of their method.

He had never thought about it before, but it was a viable option, especially if he reminded himself that he had always been insecure, damned insecure about his own skills. But he didn't have to be, whatever he did, Paul would be sincere and he would appreciate and help him improve if necessary.

"Thank you, guys."

Now that he was alone he could hear his voice singing a certain melody.

And it was perfect for the lyrics waiting for him in his hotel room.

****

George smiled as Paul made him hear his song. Yes, just the one he wrote for John. It was pretty much complete now.

The day before, just after the phone call with John, he couldn’t sleep and found inspiration for the last part of the song, the middle-eight.

_“Love you forever and forever_ _  
Love you with all my heart  
Love you whenever we're together  
Love you when we're apart”_

It was damn sappy, and Paul was certain John would make fun of him for life. However, it was exactly what he felt, and those days of being apart were strengthening his feelings. Just like Paul imagined. Yes, he'd also found out he was just as jealous of John as he was of Paul, but until he showed up with someone else at home, everything was fine, wasn't it?

And now, now that his song finally had words and chords, Paul couldn't wait to let someone hear it. The problem was, _who?_

It wouldn't be a bad idea to have George Martin listen to it, he was definitely the colleague Paul valued the most. His musical preparation was the most complete of all the teachers in the school. For the first time since the school opened, Paul wanted someone else to know about him and John.

A colleague was the best solution, because they could give him a more objective opinion about the song. The only one who knew the true nature of Paul and John's relationship was Heather, but Paul ruled it out. He would never, ever get her involved in something so private. He would have given her a reason to stick her nose in their relationship. And no, it was the last thing Paul wanted.

But he hardly wanted to give up a colleague's opinion. One thing he was sure of, he would never confess to George Martin or anyone else in the school about his relationship with John. At least, not with John away. When he decided to do it, John would be there with him.

Then, calling himself _stupid_, he realized that he didn’t need to say anything to anyone. The song was his, and he could have written it for anyone. Even if they asked questions, he could have answered that it was for some girl he had been in love with, or for no one in particular. Some excuse would have come up at the right time.

And so that afternoon he took courage and asked George Martin if he had time for him.

At the end of his performance, the man smiled openly and Paul felt more relieved. That meant he liked it?

"Is it really the first time you've written a song?"

"Well, alone yes. I wrote one with John, though, some time ago. Completely different from this."

"I'll tell you, Paul." George began, sit on the piano stool, "You did a great job. The lyrics are simple and sincere. We often try to put into songs powerful phrases that don't really have any meaning, without thinking that what matters in the end is the emotion. And this one seems really written with the heart. I'm sorry if I ask you, but were you thinking of someone when you wrote it?"

Paul gasped, barely blushing, "More or less."

"They must be a special person."

"Yes."

"I'm sure it’ll give you the inspiration to write more songs in the future. You can do very well."

Paul blinked surprised. Okay, he expected it to be fine, but certainly not that much.

"Seriously?"

"Of course. There’s something the needs to be fixed with the arrangement, but if you want we can see it together in the next few days."

"Would you really do that?"

"Sure. I'd love to."

Paul jumped on his feet and said enthusiast, "Thank you very much, George, you have no idea how much I appreciate this."

George chuckled softly at his enthusiasm and the wrinkles on the sides of his mouth accentuated. Paul thought he had done the right thing asking him for help. It couldn't have been any better than that.

"Then when you have time to waste, you know where to find me." Paul told him.

"All right."

"Now I have to go, but thank you again. Really."

"Don’t worry."

The two greeted each other quickly, before Paul left the piano room. As he made his way down to John's office, Paul sang his song, his _I_ _will. _Yes, now he could give it a title. Until now, he had been reluctant to decide on a title. It always seemed incomplete. But now that he had also the advice of a master like George Martin, he had no reason to postpone it again.

_I will_ was a perfect title. Oh yes. Simple but it said all about the song, about Paul, about him and John.

He knew that asking for George's opinion would be a good idea, he had always valued him not only as a teacher and musician, but also as a person. He hadn't even been particularly meddling. Indeed, he had been very respectful of his privacy. It was definitely not something everyone would do.

Pleased with what had just happened, Paul finally reached John's office. He left his guitar in the corner and sat at his desk. After the delight, now the work. He promised that he would fix the concert setlist, and it was better that he had really done that when John returned, otherwise he would be angry.

Luckily, he had the list of all the students attending and the songs they played. He just had to find the right order.

He started with some attempts that didn’t convince him at all. There were many factors to take into account, but he didn't really know what to do. If John had been there with him, it would have been easier.

At that moment someone knocked on the door, briefly distracting him from his work, and the following moment Heather entered the office.

"I was about to leave, Paul, I wanted to say hello."

"Thank you, Heather. See you tomorrow for the kids’ rehearsals."

"Of course. Are you still working?"

"I have to decide the setlist." Paul replied, sighing with a little smile, "You know, John is gone for a few days, and I offered to do it for him. But if I'm honest, I have no idea how to do it. It's the first time."

"I can help you, if you want."

Paul shook his head, "There's no need, thank you. I don't want to bother you. "

Heather, enthusiastic, ignored him, came closer to him and took a chair to settle down next to Paul, "I've done it so many times. If I can use my experience to help you, I’ll do so with pleasure. No trouble, Paul."

Paul didn't know if it was a good thing, but he really wanted to fix that damn setlist before John's return, that would be, the next day.

"Thank you then."

"And where did John go?"

"He's in Bath. He went to meet Astrid and Klaus before they left for the continent again."

"Oh, that’s great, really. He’ll like them a lot, you'll see." Heather said, winking at him.

"He met them last night, but still didn't let me know anything."

"Are you worried?"

"No, why should I? As soon as he can, he'll call me. I'm sure."

"All right, so let's get to work." Heather exclaimed, very confident, immediately grabbing pen and paper lying unused in front of Paul, "You know, the secret of a good setlist is the build up."

"That is?"

"You have to take into account many things, you know: the best players, those who are only at the beginning, and then what song they play, if it’s famous and powerful, or unknown. As you can see, the younger and less experienced students bring simple melodies that aren’t really impressive, right? Then you should put them in the beginning. They all are on the same level of preparation and there will be no one who will feel intimidated by having to perform after one better than them."

Heather hurriedly began to write an order of kids’ names on the paper, and Paul watched her carefully.

"Oh sure, that seems fair."

"As you go along with the setlist, you start to put the older, better kids in. For example, Martha and James are on an intermediate level, I would put them right in the middle of the concert."

"All right."

"The percussion guys are definitely the ones that attract the most attention, we could spread them around to prevent the audience from getting soothed."

"Is it possible?" Paul asked, curious.

"Of course, my dear." She answered, chuckling and patting on his hand, "Especially with the students of the early years of all instruments. It's bad to say, but it is. They will get their parents' attention, but nothing more."

“Oh.”

"And towards the end you leave the most powerful duets, as well as the best pupils in the instrument classes."

Paul followed Heather's advice with great interest, trying to remember everything she was saying and noting how quickly she wrote a draft setlist on the paper that Paul had left blank.

"Well, maybe in the end you could put your guitar group with _Bohemian rhapsody._ What do you think?" Heather asked, turning to him and looking at him with expectation.

"At last?"

"Sure. It's the highlight of the whole concert. No one, believe me, no one would want to perform after your ensemble." Heather commented, amused.

Another pat, this time higher, on Paul's forearm. The young man got nervous and tried to pull away politely.

"All right then."

"Great, as you can see, it's not hard when you know how to move." said the woman, looking satisfied at her work.

"Have you done many setlists before?"

Heather's fun seemed to fade at Paul's question as she dropped her pen on the desk.

"Well yes, when I had to perform with my ex-husband, we took care of the setlist together."

"I see." Paul answered, nodding.

"It was fun at the beginning, it allowed us to share our passion for music and he always teased me because I always chose songs that were too cheesy." She went on, smiling sadly.

"And was it true?"

"I don't know, when it comes to classical music in the end there are no songs that are too cheesy. There are more delicate melodies, and more important ones. I wouldn't call them cheesy."

"You're right."

"But even though he teased me, I still loved those moments. You know when the first period is like a bed of roses..."

"The honeymoon period, of course."

Oh, Paul really knew that all too well. Wasn't that the one that just ended with John?

"That's right. I loved my husband very much and at that time I just had to be with him to be happy. Then I don't know how, everything became difficult. We stopped doing concerts and realized that it was only this that kept us together. When our relationship failed, everything collapsed. He immediately started to cheat on me with a colleague, and I repaid him in the same way, until we realized it was useless to go on like this, and we divorced."

Heather quickly passed her hand over her eyes, perhaps to wipe away tears that Paul wasn’t able to see. Paul bit the inside of his cheek. Fuck him and his stupid curiosity. He couldn't keep that big mouth shut, could he? It wasn’t his intention to sadden the woman.

"I'm sorry, Heather."

"What for?" she asked, softly.

"For bringing back bad memories. I didn't want to."

"Oh, don't worry, dear." she replied, resting one hand on Paul's knee, "It's in the past now."

Paul bit his lip: his focus was on the woman's hand on his knee. It didn't have to be there, but damn it, he didn't want to be any more rude to Heather.

"Yes, but I shouldn't anyway."

"That's not the problem, trust me." Heather reassured with a sad smile.

"And what is it then?"

"You see, Paul, the fact is that it's been a long time, and yet as you can see, I'm still alone."

The woman bowed her head, withdrawing her hand to rest it on her lap. Paul sighed relieved. He felt much quieter now.

"But you don't have to worry about that."

"You say? I'm worried.” Heather confessed, "I don't want to be alone all my life. It's a prospect that has always scared me."

Paul shook his head, then smiled at her in an encouraging way.

"It's not going to happen." he said convincingly, "Trust me. You are a young and very intelligent woman. You'll find someone soon."

Heather sniffled, smiling just in spite of her wet eyes, "Do you really think so?"

"Of course. I'm sure there's plenty of men out there ready to go out with you. You just have to be patient a little bit more."

"What if I'd already found someone?"

Paul didn't think much before he asked, "Who?"

And maybe he should have done it, maybe he should have thought about it much more, because if he had done it, surely he would have noticed the sudden change in Heather’s expression. If he had, he would have reacted to Heather's smile, and he wouldn't have been paralyzed by surprise. If he had, he could have ordered his body to get away as quickly as possible. Instead all he did was stay there, still, taken aback, with no energy to move while Heather kissed him, right on his lips still apart for the fucking stupid question.

Jesus Christ, why hadn't he thought of it? If he hadn’t’ talked, now he wouldn’t have been caught off guard, and the surprise at the woman's gesture wouldn’t have paralyzed him for a few moments. Too many for Paul anyway.

As he realized what happened, Paul immediately moved up with a snap.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

His tone perfectly reflected how he felt, betrayed and teased.

"I was just showing you the right man for me."

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"You don't feel that way?” Heather asked, convinced, standing up and approaching Paul, "You're always so kind to me. I thought you liked me."

Paul pulled back, frightened by the possibility that he might be caught off guard again. He couldn't let it.

"Not in that sense. I'm sorry, Heather. You're wrong."

The woman was speechless for a few moments, before resting her hands on her hips. Her gaze immediately became fiery. Outraged. Incredulous.

"You can't be serious with John. You... you're not like that."

"Like what?" Paul asked, frowning.

"You get it."

"Oh, then I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm _very much_ like that, instead.” Paul replied, smiling with an almost sadistic grin, "And yes, I'm very serious with John. Accept it."

"But-"

"But what, Heather? I had too much patience with you, I always justified your every behaviour with John when he told me to be careful, but now that's enough. I can't give you what you're looking for. I'm sorry."

"You're just a fool, Paul, and you know, fools always end up heartbroken."

"Go away, please. I don't need your threats."

Heather looked furious and made sure Paul understood it, almost as a last warning, before turning on her heels and leaving, slamming the door.

Disappointed and disconsolate, Paul sank into John's armchair. God, _John._

John was always right about Heather, and Paul as a fool hadn’t been brave enough to listen to him from the very first moment. What was his problem?

When John had shown his jealousy, Paul had always felt too hit in his own pride to listen to him. Did it matter more to show John that he could trust him unconditionally rather than stop and think for a moment and understand that John was right?

If John had found out, it would have been the end. The end of all.

Paul hid his face in his hands. He had no idea what to do now, now that his world had undergone a powerful jolt.

If he had hidden Heather's kiss from John, he would have built their future on a lie.

And if he had told him, on the other hand, he would have made John suffer and run the risk of ruining everything.

What kind of trouble did he get himself into?

****

John smiled as he looked at his lyrics.

_Good night_ seemed like a proper title. A lullaby for his baby and why not, even for his Paul.

As soon as he returned from the concert, he was excited and inspired and had continued the writing he had begun the day before, after his meeting with Astrid and Klaus. Anyway, he wouldn't be able to sleep.

He admired his little lyrics with affection. He was proud of it. It could also suck musically or be trivial, but it made him satisfied. He had written it thinking of the two most important people in his life, and he had written it himself. It was a great achievement for him. He felt finally realized.

He couldn't wait to sing it to Julian and Paul, so much so that he didn't even seem surprised when his cell phone started ringing and Paul's name appeared on the display.

_Two o'clock in the morning?_

"Hey."

_“John?”_

"Good morning, sweetie, or perhaps I should say... goodnight!" he said, laughing softly to himself, "What do I owe the honor of this call in the middle of the night?"

_"I can't sleep, John."_

"How come?" he asked worriedly.

He put his song aside and tried to focus on Paul. His voice was strangely faint, but it was probably due to the hour.

_"I don't know. The storm, perhaps."_

In fact he could also hear through the phone the sound of powerful thunder and a heavy burst of rain.

"Has Julian come to your bed yet?"

_"Yes, an hour ago. He's asleep now. Blessed him."_

Like most children, Julian was afraid of the storm and apparently, Paul was no less. So John lay down on the bed, so that his voice took on that bedroom tone that always relaxed Paul.

"I know what to do to help you sleep."

_"What is it?" _Paul asked, and in his voice there was a sweet note of hope.

"I'll give you my half-surprise. The other half when I come back."

_"Oh, did you write a song?"_

"Yes, all by himself." John exclaimed, pleased with Paul's joy, "What do you think?"

_"That I'm very proud of you, Johnny."_

"Nah, it's just that you're biased." 

_"It may be, but that doesn't change that it really is. I was sure you'd do it."_

"Thank you." John answered and for a few moments no one said anything else.

John thought, foolishly, that it was just their silent way of saying _I miss you_ or _I __love you._ God, how long haven’t they been telling each other?

But then Paul started again, _"John?" _

"Yes, Paul?"

_"Come back soon, please."_

John frowned, earnestly worried now. There was something strange about Paul: he didn't really know if it was because of the late hour, his not being able to sleep, the fear of the storm, or the fact that maybe he was missing him.

He couldn't say for sure and not understanding what it was made him crazy. However, he didn’t want to upset Paul further, so he tried to calm himself down in the first place, before reassuring Paul with a simple promise.

“Count on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, how are you? I really hope you all are safe in this tough period.   
I'm ok, luckily, as well my family even though we live in Lombardy, that is the Italian region with the worst situation about the virus. So we are a little scared.   
Anyway I finally finished translating the new chapter and here we are. We all know this moment had to come. -.-  
Next chapter would be Another day!   
Also, during this quarantine, I played with some Lego and built the music shop from I'll get you, with John and Paul. I'll make some photos and post on tumblr.   
Ciao!!   
Chiara


	9. Another day

_“Hello, is there anybody in there?”_

"Fuck yes, is there anybody in there? Press that fucking gas pedal!"

On the radio Roger Waters was singing _Comfortably numb, _while John was ranting about the man in the car in front of him. So fucking slow.

The journey home had been particularly long and finding some traffic on the highway made everything even more unbearable. So instead of three-and-a-half hours, he had been driving over four hours, trapped in that sultry, tiny cubicle between cars and trucks, all headed, apparently, to London like him.

He told Paul that he would be back by nine o'clock in the evening, but it was now about twenty to ten.

The fact that he was worried about Paul was making everything more complicated and the journey even longer. The night before Paul seemed very strange to him, while that morning on the phone he seemed to be back as usual.

So John had decided that he would wait to check by himself. He hadn’t even allowed himself to try to imagine what might upset him. He didn’t want to create too many anxieties only to discover that it was just his paranoia, or that Paul's strange behavior was due to a physical pain.

No, he'd find out when he got home. For now he kept his eyes open determined to get home before midnight.

Luckily, fate was good to him and after a few minutes traffic resumed flowing normally and John arrived home even before his wildest expectations.

When he parked in front of the house, he noticed that there was only a small light on in the living room. All the other rooms were into darkness. Probably Julian was sleeping and Paul had felt asleep on the couch, waiting for John.

The man entered the house trying to make as little noise as possible. He put his suitcase next to the stairs, before tiptoeing up the living room and noticing not only Paul, but also Julian asleep on the couch. The child slept quietly tightly in Paul's arms.

John smiled at himself and sat down on the table next to the sofa to look at them for a while. He was sorry to wake both of them, but they certainly couldn't stay there.

Without thinking too long, he reached out to plug Paul's nose and waited. Moments later the sleeping beauty began to move until he opened his eyes, frightened, and John let him go, giggling.

Paul seemed to take some time to focus on John and then smiled, surprised.

“John?”

"Hey."

"You're back."

"Either that, or you're talking to my hologram."

Paul smiled faintly and, still numb from his sleep, "Ah damn, then it would be a problem doing what I had in mind."

"Always so greedy, aren't you, Paul McCartney?"

Paul mischievously nodded, but with the sleepy look and messy hair he seemed so cute to John's eyes that he couldn’t hold from leaning towards him to kiss him on the lips. Paul tried to lift himself but his arm was blocked by the weight of Julian's head, reminding him that he wasn’t free to move.

The painful grimace due to having pins and needles in his arm didn’t go unnoticed in John's eyes.

"Yeah, that happens when you fall asleep like this."

"He wanted to stay awake waiting for you with me, but we both couldn’t resist apparently."

"Yes. I'd better take him to bed." John said, getting up and lifting the child with his arms.

The little boy barely moved in his father's arms, but didn’t wake up.

"Thank you, John."

John smiled at Paul briefly before going upstairs. Julian snuggled against his dad, and when he was lying on his bed, he opened his eyes.

"Dad?"

"Hey.”

The child yawned softly, closing his eyes, "Did you bring me a present?"

"Yes, but you’ll open it tomorrow. Now sleep."

Julian stayed with his mouth open, falling asleep instantly when his head fell back on the pillow. John chuckled softly as he closed his mouth and placed his soft yellow submarine plushie in the child's arms.

He looked at him for a few moments, making sure he was asleep, before kissing him on the forehead and exiting the bedroom.

By the time he reached his bedroom, Paul was already lying down and had carried his luggage upstairs.

"Thank you, babe." John told him, winking.

Paul smiled, stretching out on the bed, "No problem."

"Tell the truth, you only did it because you wanted your present too."

"It depends on the present."

John sneered before hurriedly taking off his pants and T-shirt and reaching him on the bed, "As I said to Julian, you'll open it tomorrow. You know, I can't make preferences."

Paul pouted, "Oh, that's not fair."

"It is, but now I'm tired and I want to sleep. I hate driving in traffic, did I tell you? "

Paul nodded amusedly, stroked his hair and told him, "The important thing is that you're here now."

"What is it? Did you miss me, Paulie, luv?”

Paul sighed, "Yes. A lot."

John out his hand on his side to draw him closer to himself, "I missed you too."

"I know." Paul said, before laughing.

"You always know everything, don't you? Now I'll tell you something you definitely don't know."

"Let's hear it."

"I went to say goodbye to Astrid and Klaus after the concert and they told me they will do some gigs during the summer around Europe. And I thought we could go to Paris and see them. _Together_, this time. You're going to love them when you get to know them."

Paul looked at him smiling happily, with two big hopeful eyes, "Paris?"

"Yes, Paris, what do you think?"

"I think you make me want to go right away."

"I knew.” John muttered as Paul began to kiss his face.

“Mm, John?”

"Yes?"

"Do you still want to sleep?"

"I don't know, what do you offer me?"

Paul sighed, his eyes full of desire and his hands unable to stand firm on John's body.

"Can I have you tonight?"

John looked at him for just a second, before smiling mischievously.

"You don't even have to ask permission."

****

Paul couldn't go on like this. He knew that very well.

Wherever he was, his mind was so full of thoughts and his heart so fucking upset that he couldn't focus on what he was doing.

As long as John was with him, Paul could manage his guilt and hide it from John's eyes, simply thinking that he shouldn’t in any way let him suspect anything. At least until he hadn't decided what to do and how to tell him Heather had kissed him while he was away.

Because he had to tell him, right?

He had to be honest with John and tell him everything before he found out on his own. It would have been worse, John could have thought Paul wanted to keep it hidden from him for some particular reason that wasn't absolutely true.

However, there was something holding him back. At that moment he thought that his inner battle must be very similar to the one John had felt before he was unmasked by Paul. And if he thought about how he, _Paul, _had reacted back then, after the discover, he really didn’t want to confess anything to John anymore.

He didn't have the faintest idea what to do, and the worst part was that all this was reflecting on his job and he couldn't stand it.

Less than a week to the school concert, his kids were in turmoil and excited and Paul had to support and encourage them.

Instead, he was there now, listening apathetically to Martha and James' duet and thinking about John, about how good it had been to hold him the night before, as if he were his personal lifesaver, and about his doubts, trying to decide what to do and drive away the guilt.

He was a disaster.

At that moment Heather corrected some mistakes Martha did, and Paul returned back to reality, realizing that he didn’t know what to say to his pupil.

However, the duet resumed, Paul made every effort to focus this time, and at the end of the lesson the two kids left, after receiving compliments from their teachers. And so Paul realized, with embarrassment, that he was alone with Heather. Again.

His eyes looked for her to make sure she was at least a metre away. The woman smiled mischievously, realizing perfectly what was going through the young man's head.

"Er, Paul, I..."

"Go away." Paul hastened to say, a little grumpy, he had to admit, but at that moment he couldn’t care less, to be honest.

"Why? Are you scared I can kiss you again?" she asked him chuckling.

She didn't seem particularly offended by Paul's tone, but he wasn't of the same mood.

"If so, I could defend myself this time.” he blurted annoyed.

"Mm... don’t try me."

That said, the woman touched his arm, but Paul promptly got back before she could touch him. She continued to smile, almost satisfied.

"Please, Heather, go away and leave me alone."

"You're afraid to be alone with me, aren't you?"

"No."

"Yes, you are, I can read it in those big eyes of yours. But you're going to have to get used to it, you know, we're still colleagues in this school."

In front of her silly laugh, Paul frowned and grabbed her by the shoulders, before turning her over and pushing her towards the door, "That's it, so let's stay that way."

"But..."

"See you at the concert, Heather."

Unceremoniously he pushed her out of his room and closed the door behind her to prevent her from re-entering.

God, he wouldn't stand every day like this. He would live with an unbearable weight in his heart, and even though he was getting away with it for now, he feared that in the long run he would give in, and at that moment, when his defenses were waned, John would understand everything. And he would have suffered even more.

Paul couldn't let it happen.

In a moment of lucidity his mind suggested him to go to John immediately, and tell him everything now, before he could find out in any other way, for example, before he heard it from Heather's mouth.

God, would she have been able to?

Yes, fuck, yes.

He didn't even need to ask. Heather could have enough courage to go to John and tell him what had happened, determined to put her hands on him.

Paul passed his hand through his hair, while his heart pumped desperately in his chest. He had to find John. He hoped to meet him before he went out for a meeting with the publisher.

He made sure Heather wasn't around when he left the room, and ran downstairs, rushing into John's office without even knocking. 

The office was empty and Paul felt his heart sink many feet underground.

_Where are you, Johnny?_

****

"Then, John... can I call you John?"

"As long as I can call you Neil…"

"So, we have a deal. When you’ll finish the final version of your teaching method, we can arrange a meeting with you and Mr. McCartney and see what can be done."

"Yes, thank you very much."

"Don’t mention it. We’re very interested in your work."

"This will make everything easier." John commented, chuckling.

Neil smiled, amused, before John left him with a handshake.

John could say he was satisfied with the first meeting with Mr. Aspinall, the publisher whom Astrid and Stuart told him. He made definitely a good impression on him, and he was really interested in their work. Maybe he would publish their teaching method. John didn't want to delude himself, but he hoped for it, especially for Paul. It was his idea, or at least, it was him who decided to go on this new adventure and it was him who did most of the work. He deserved it, that's all.

And Neil Aspinall was their golden opportunity. They couldn’t make mistake now that they so near to their goal.

John smiled at himself as he left the building in Marylebone. He couldn't wait to go home and tell Paul everything. 

But above all this, he wanted to go home and talk to Paul about that little stop he had made before he went Neil Aspinall's office.

He discovered that there was a clinic in that area that dealt with surrogacy, among other things, and nothing could help him from going in. Just to have a look. Paul had been so busy recently that John decided to take the initiative. The concern he felt when they were apart for few days had waned. Paul seemed to behave as usual. Perhaps he was just busy with his commitments and John had been worried unnecessarily.

When John explained at the reception what interested him, the secretary gave him a series of pamphlets to read very carefully. She also explained that surrogacy was only possible in England to help friends or relatives, which meant finding a woman close to them who could carry their baby. There weren’t many women among their friends and relatives. In fact, if he excluded Pattie for his infertility problems, then the only one left was... Cynthia. But would she agree? She only recently accepted John and Paul's cohabitation, would she be ready for this step? And would they really have the courage to ask her?

When John finally arrived home, those same pamphlets were tightly held in his hands. He didn’t have time to go through the entrance because he was immediately greeted by a smiling Paul who appeared on the doorstep of the living room.

"John, finally."

John laughed, amused by Paul's sighing tone, "What's going on, were you worried?"

"Oh no, no, I just couldn't wait for you to come back."

"I get it." John said, "Can I at least take a shower before you jump on me?"

Paul cheered and pushed him, hitting him on the shoulder, "Idiot, you didn't understand anything."

"Then explain to me, my dear. How come you couldn't wait for me to come back?"

"Well, you see, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" John asked, intrigued by Paul's tone.

Paul bit his lip. Was he sure he was doing it?

Yes, definitely yes. He thought of the right words to use, he had tried the speech over and over again, occasionally interpreting John's possible reactions and seeking answers that were at least acceptable.

He would confess everything to John right away, he owed it to him.

Paul opened his mouth, ready to speak, when his gaze fell on the pamphlets that John held in his hand.

"What are those?" he asked, staring intently.

"Oh, these?" John exclaimed, following his gaze, "Some things I took for us."

When John handed him the pamphlets, Paul took them with trembling hands. He didn't need to read them to figure out what it was. All he had to do was to take a simple look.

"But..."

"You know, I went before going to Mr. Aspinall, who by the way, is really interested in our teaching method. Anyway, I thought I'd start collecting some information. After all, you've had too many things to take care of, what with the school, the concert and the method, and since I care as much as you, I've decided to do something. The young lady at the clinic said to read them very carefully, and she can answer all our questions. If you want, we can have a look before we go to sleep."

Paul was literally speechless. He stared at him with two big wide eyes, unable to think of anything other than the fear of disappointing John, his wonderful John. He didn't deserve it.

“Paul?”

And pinching his side, John tried to call his attention. He must have noticed his lack of reaction.

Paul gasped, before forcing himself to smile and hug John, "Thank you, thank you very much."

"Does that mean I've done well?"

Holding John tight, as if he were afraid of losing him forever, if he had walked away, Paul nodded.   
"Of course."

"Oh, great then. This happens every now and then."

They hugged for a few minutes, Paul's heart had gone mad and was pounding violently against his chest, so much so that he was certain that John could feel it.

But he couldn't control it, he was prey to such a different set of emotions, exciting and terrible, that that was just his way of reacting.

And when John finally asked him, "So, what were you supposed to tell me?", Paul looked at him straight in the eye and felt his heart break.

"Oh, nothing, it's just that they printed the wrong name of the school on the programs of the concert."

"Let me guess... it’s McCartney/Lennon now?"

"Precisely."

"It's not that it sounds really better than Lennon/McCartney."

"I say it does."

"I say _fuck you_."

Paul burst out laughing and John, delighted, was really relieved to see him like this.

"Anyway, I’ll call tomorrow to kick everyone's ass, don’t worry."

Paul nodded before John kissed him on the nose, and hugged him again.

He couldn't tell him, not now, not after what John had done for him, or better, for them. He would ruin everything, and Paul just wanted to enjoy John's closeness this way for a while longer.

"Thank you, Johnny."

He'd tell him the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and Happy Easter!  
Is everything alright? I hope yes.  
So, just a few words about the surrogacy. I searched some infos about it in England. I found that it's possibile only if the woman is a relative or a friend and do it as a favour. But if someone knows something more, I'm very interested to know. :D  
Next chapter will be, Jealous guy. Let's see what happens. We have only 6 chapters left.   
Ciao!!   
Chiara


	10. Jealous guy

"And then Sean pulled my hair and the teacher punished him."

"And this is because he stole your gum?"

"Of course, you mustn't steal, dad."

John gasped at his son's statement, and Paul looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smile, very, very crafty, so much so that it made John blush slightly.

They were all sitting on the bed, Elvis and Pepper snoring in the corner of the mattress, Paul lying on his back and Julian against his chest, all intent on playing with the new walrus-shaped stuffed animal that his dad brought him from Bath, while John distractedly strummed his guitar with his back resting on the bed headboard.

"Julian's right, Johnny, you mustn't steal." Paul repeated, winking.

"I guess so." the man sighed, lowering his gaze on his guitar.

Paul smiled, noticing how he blushed. He wondered if that part of his life was still a great guilt for John. It shouldn’t have in any case; if it hadn’t been for that stuff, surely they would never have known each other.

His own guilt instead was still there, it roared restlessly in his chest, it made his days endless, and Paul didn't know if he would find the courage to confess everything to John. Not after what John had done for him, not when the peace at home was so delicious that Paul didn't really want to ruin it in any way.

John was playing, actually, he was strumming for them and Paul could listen to him for hours as much as he could watch Julian play.

What reason did he have to ruin this?

He remembered a detail that John told him a few days before.

"What about the song you wrote?"

"Oh yeah..." was John's very surprised answer.

"Is it ready?"

"More or less."

Paul smiled enthusiastically, before lying on his side and resting his head on his hand, "Can we listen to it then?"

John bit his lip, looking away from Paul, "Don’t know... I mean, it still has to be completed..."

"I'm sure it’s good. Right, Julian?"

When Paul poked him slightly on his side to encourage him, Julian immediately snapped on his knees, "Yes, please, dad!"

"No."

"Pretty please?" the child said before starting to hop on the bed, accompanying each jump with a _please_ to beg his father.

At the fifteenth please, John gave in exasperated, cursing himself but especially Paul, who now was smiling pleased to have succeeded in his intent. The pairing Paul-Julian was diabolical, deadly, and John always gave in. Always, damn it!!

"All right, you two are so noisy. But then don't complain if it sucks."

"I like when you sing, dad." Julian muttered, looking distractedly at his plushie.

John's eyes lit up and he looked at the child with surprise, yes, but also with so much love, and when he moved on Paul, he found him smiling, with that confidence that was still strange to John.

Well, he didn't really need better motivation to start playing for his son and Paul. With the guitar in a comfortable position, he strummed some initial chords before he starts playing and singing.

_“Now it's time to say good night_

_Good night sleep tight_

_Now the sun turns out his light_

_Good night sleep tight_

_Dream sweet dreams for me_

_Dream sweet dreams for you”  
  
_

John dared not raise his head as he sang. He was afraid to see Paul wrinkle his nose if he made a mistake, or worse, if what John wrote really sucked. He wouldn’t be able to go on under Paul's negative judgment: basically for him it was everything.

So he went on, appreciating the fact that so far there had been no protest or restless snort. He could already see it as a great achievement.

_“Close your eyes and I'll close mine_

_Good night sleep tight_

_Now the moon begins to shine_

_Good night sleep tight_

_Dream sweet dreams for me_

_Dream sweet dreams for you”_   
  


And all right, he knew that the lyrics were pretty ordinary and that he probably messed up halfway through the final chords. After all, he said it was yet to be fixed!

However, he felt satisfied at the end of his little and intimate performance. He let his two most important people listen to his song. It was still immature, certainly imperfect, it had to be fixed, but John knew it had been written with his heart and this made it precious to him.

Finally he convinced himself to raise his head. Julian had fallen asleep, curled up on the mattress and hugging his stuffed toy. Paul sat cross-legged, listening to the song.

"So?"

"You should raise your voice when you sing it, John."

"I can't. It's supposed to be a lullaby." John answered back, grinning.

Paul looked up, sighing, "I didn't say you have to shout it, you have to sing it with a firmer voice. It deserves to be heard appropriately."

"Really?"

"Of course. It's really lovely, John." Paul said, smiling encouragingly at him.

"But I made some mistakes at the end, didn’t I?"

Ok, strangely Paul liked the song, he really liked it, and because John was surprised by it, he felt like he had to point out at all costs all the flaws of that song and his performance. As if to prevent himself from getting too excited or being proud of himself. 

"It doesn't matter. I like it very much. She's cute. Did you write it for Julian?"

John nodded, biting his lip, "For Julian and for you."

Paul was speechless for a few seconds, all his muscles strained and his gaze fixed in John's beautiful eyes. Then he shook his head as if to wake himself up and smiled, relaxing.

"I’m a bit grown up for a lullaby. Am I wrong?"

"Just because your body has grown up, that doesn't mean your mind has as well."

"Oh really?" Paul asked, amused.

"Really. Who calls me in the middle of the night when he can't sleep?"

"I don't always do that." Paul muttered, pouting.

John giggled, leaning out to pinch his cheek, "You do, darling."

In response Paul wrinkled his nose in perfect grimacing style.

"And that's why you wrote it?"

"Well, yes, more or less." John replied, shrugging, "Besides, I was away from you and I thought how nice it has always been being like this, all together before going to sleep and I don't know, the words came out of the pen and that's the result."

"And it's a great job. I can tell you."

John looked at Paul's big and warm smile and was really convinced that there was something good in his song.

"Then, will you help me fix it?"

"Sure."

"Do you think Julian likes it too?"

"Well, he definitely showed that as a lullaby it works." Paul replied, chuckling and running a hand through the kid’s hair.

"Uff, I want to know if he liked it. When did he fall asleep?"

"I was too busy looking at you to notice."

John rolled his eyes, before laying his guitar on the ground and bending over Julian to watch him carefully. He slept soundly, and John thought it was lucky to have him brush his teeth before jumping into their bed. Who could wake him up now?

"Are we going to let him sleep here tonight?" Paul asked.

John looked at him puzzled, raising an eyebrow, "So we're not planning anything... you know..."

Paul laughed, shaking his head, "No, we have nothing planned."

John sighed, pouting, "Okay, but I'm going to sign this one for next time."

"John, you're awful."

"I know." He said, winking at him.

A few minutes later they were all three under the covers, or five if they considered Elvis and Pepper asleep on the bed.

"And what about your song, Paul?" John asked after he turned off the abat-jour.

Paul sighed, stretching, "Oh, it's no such thing."

"Ah, but, it's not fair. You must let me listen to it too." 

"And I will, I promise." Paul said, turning on his side to look at him in spite of the darkness, "But I still have to finish fixing it."

"Then I'll wait."

“John?”

“Mm?”

"You know, I was thinking of invite Richard to the concert."

"It's a great idea."

"He could come with the whole family, so we'll show him concretely what we do at school."

"You surely do know how to sell you, Paulie."

Paul chuckled before a yawn overwhelmed him, "The more we are, the better."

"At school as well at home?"

"Yes, that's right."

John smiled, noting how sleepy Paul was and the effort he was trying to stay awake.

"Sleep now."

"No... I'm not sleepy..."

"Yes, you are. Close your eyes."

“Ok, Johnny.”

"Good night, Paul. Dream sweet dreams for me."

****

"Thank you very much. It's a pleasure to deal with you."

John hung up the phone and sighed. That idiot from the typography assured him that he would reprint the concert’s programs and deliver them as soon as possible. All for free, after John had barked at him for what had happened. How the hell did they get it wrong?

Thank God he solved everything and it was lucky that John was right there to fix this mess. He couldn’t really see Paul yelling at someone: if he had been alone, he would have certainly made up for it, but not that way. And maybe they'd even charge him more for the haste they would have to deliver the material with.

Therefore he relaxed in his chair, and thought impatiently at the concert. He wanted to see all their kids on that little stage, performing in front of their professors and parents. He was curious about how much they improved that year, he was curious about how his professors worked. It would have been a great night. He and Paul were so excited and had managed to involve George and Pattie in organising the concert. In fact, they were just elected official hosts of the show. Pattie had been super enthusiastic about the offer, George a little less. In fact, he had been totally against the idea. But amid the insistence of Pattie, his friends and Dhani, he had finally accepted it.

So now they had the hosts, the musicians, the programs... they just had to wait for the big evening.

John was giggling imagining George tripping with wires on stage, or saying something wrong, when someone knocked on the door.

Moments later Heather entered her office, greeting him with a big smile. John held himself from rolling his eyes. God, lately he found it very difficult to be in that woman's presence. Yes, he was trying to trust Paul and not be jealous, but for God's sake! He couldn't stand her.

"Hi, John."

"Heather! What are you still doing here? I thought you were done at least an hour ago."

The woman shook her head, approaching his desk, "Oh, I was just fixing some sheets for my students. No more than that."

"Then, did you need me?"

_Say no_, John foolishly thought to himself.

"Yes."

_Fuck!_

"It’s nothing important." she hurried to add, "Paul told me that you went for a few days to meet Astrid and Klaus."

"It's true."

"What do you think?" she asked interested.

"They are two very smart and nice guys, as well as two amazing artists. In fact, I thank you again for introducing me."

At least he had to recognize that. If it hadn’t been for her, he wouldn't have had a chance to meet and talk to artists with their talent.

"Don’t mention it. It was a real pleasure."

"It was good being with them and they invited me to visit them in Paris, in the summer, during their European tour."

Heather looked at him a moment, before she smiled and clasped enthusiastically, "It's a _really_ lovely idea." 

"I'd like to take Paul along and introduce him too. I'm sure they'd love him too."

"Of course."

John nodded and suddenly the discomfort of being with that woman seemed to fade. In fact, he even managed to smile softly at the mere idea of being with Paul in Paris. It was perfect, they could leave Julian to Cynthia for a week and go on their little and intimate vacation. Some kind of honeymoon, yes. John chuckled to himself, thinking that as soon as the stress of the concert finished, he would immediately move to book a good flight and a good hotel.

"Are those the concert’s programs?" the woman asked, pointing to the block above John's desk.

"Oh yes, yes, that's right."

"Can I see them?"

"Actually, they have a few mistakes and I just called to fix this mess. So these are to be thrown away."

"What a pity." Heather muttered with a grimace.

John shrugged, carelessly, "It can happen."

“It's not fair, Paul and I have worked so hard on it.” she said crossing her arms.

"On what?"

"On the program. I helped him in the choice of the setlist."

Now, this was something. Paul got Heather's help?

When did this happen? While John was away, that’s for sure. But above all, why hadn’t Paul told John about it? Ok, John had been very jealous, but now he was slowly trying to overcome this stupid feeling, because Paul assured him there was absolutely nothing to worry about.

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry, but with all these things to do it had completely crossed my mind."

He decided that pretending to know about it was the only way to get out of it. John didn't trust that woman, and he didn't want to give her the chance to take advantage of some possible problems between him and Paul.

"I understand you. Anyway, it was nice to help him. We spent all evening talking and looking for the right order of performances. He's a very pleasant man, so sweet and kind, but I’ve already told you. Besides, you know better than I do, don't you?"

That's right. When the woman laughed silly, John clasped his fingers around the armrests of his chair so as not to do something very rash and very, very wrong. Paul in his head kept telling him to calm down.

"Yes, well. Thank you for helping him."

"No problem at all. If you need my help again it in the future, do not hesitate to ask."

"Oh, I would never dare involve one of my professors in anything that doesn't fit into their duties."

"It would be a pleasure for me to help you guys."

"Yes, I don't doubt it." John muttered, torturing the inside of his cheek.

God, how long was this torture?

"And don't be afraid, nothing more is going to happen between Paul and me, you know? It was a moment of weakness, that one." Heather added, sorry.

John blinked, troubled, "Sorry, what are you referring to?"

Suddenly he really wanted Heather to stay there.

"You know, the fact that we kissed."

If John could see his reaction in a mirror, he would see his face going pale like a ghost. But that was nothing compared to his heart, which seemed to have stopped suddenly in his chest. It stopped and then started beating so fast that John was afraid it might break.

"Oh." was all he could say.

A stupid, useless, fucking _oh?_?

Afterall, what was he expecting? His brain had gone completely tilted, while those few words continued to echo in his ears, shaping the image of Paul kissing that woman and causing a distress equal to that of a vinyl jumping on the record player.

_How the fuck could he stop it from this horrible, horrible playing?_

"Paul didn't tell you?"

No, Paul didn't tell him anything. Paul didn't say a single word about why, how and when it happened.

Paul, the one who always wanted to talk about everything, the one who assured him that he had no fucking reason to worry, now he didn’t tell him anything.

Why?

"Oh... yes, of course he told me."

In a trembling voice, he found himself stuttering uncontrollably. God, he didn’t want to show himself, actually, to react this way in front of that woman. She was lying, wasn’t she?

"And it's, you know, it's all right? You know, I'm so sorry about what happened. But you see, there was a little bit of tension, and one thing leads to the other and it just happened."

No, she was lying. It couldn't be true. Paul would never have done that, his Paul with Heather? Never!

Yet...

"Of course, relax. It was a moment of weakness, as you said, wasn't it?"

Yet Paul had been strange in those days. Not always, it was true, but John had noticed it. He started to notice it even when he was away from him.

"Well, but I wouldn't want to have put him in trouble. "

John sighed, shaking his head. He was angry, very angry at the time, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing that yes, there had been some discomfort, actually, there would be soon.

"No, Heather, everything is alright between me and Paul."

"Oh perfect, I just wanted to make sure of that."

"Thank you very much for your interest."

The smile John gave her was one of the most fake he had ever made, but the woman didn't seem to notice. In fact, she smiled back, and wished him a good day, before leaving John alone in his office again.

John's fingers tightened the armrests of his chair even more.

Christ! It wasn't all right. It wasn't all right at all.

And now he demanded an explanation from Paul, and he had to hope it was credible and acceptable, because John was very pissed off this time.

Anger and jealousy boiled in him. It was as if Heather's words opened that little secret place where John had, with difficulty, hidden all his fears and flaws.

And now there they were. His hands trembled, as his whole body did, while the feeling of strong and blinding jealousy, and betrayal flowed violently into him.

It wasn’t possible to stop them.

And nothing could stop John.

****

The last notes of his song faded slowly into the air, played by George Martin's piano and Paul’s guitar.

The piano professor played with him in that performance. Once the arrangement was over, Paul was so excited that he would run to John to let him hear it right away. But he couldn’t, he had to wait to be alone at home. 

"Thank you very much for your help, George."

"Don’t worry, it was a pleasure. I think that's perfect."

"I believe it too, but I'm not trustworthy, right?" he asked winkingly.

George laughed slightly, "Right."

"Do you think if I were to write anything else, I could ask for your advice again?"

"I really hope you will."

George winked at him and Paul smiled amusedly.

"Perfect."

"So, will you play it to the person who inspired you?"

Paul was about to answer, when the door opened: John had just entered his room and the first thought that foolishly crossed Paul's mind was that John had heard the whole song from downstairs. It would have been a shame, a spoiled surprise.

However, looking at him better, Paul noticed how upset he was. Deeply upset. And all his senses snapped on the alert.

“John?”

Paul approached looking worried, but John turned his gaze on George.

"George, please, can you leave us for a moment?"

"Oh sure, we were done anyway, right, Paul?"

Paul took a few moments before he realized that George had asked something to him. He had been too busy watching John, trying to understand why he was so upset. What made him break into the room like that?

"Yes, yes, thank you, George."

George greeted them and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Paul didn’t wait for George to be at a safe distance, before approaching John again and placing a hand on his face.

"John, what happened?"

"That's what I should ask you." John burst out, pulling Paul's hand away.

The man, surprised, stepped back a little, with a deep frown on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why didn’t you tell me? Or maybe it was supposed to be a secret between you and that bitch?”

Paul felt himself sinking into the ground. He didn't need to ask what the secret was, or who the bitch was. He just knew. He had no other secrets with John, other than the terrible one that made him feel guilty every day and that he hadn’t found the courage to confess.

Why the fuck didn't he tell John?

"No, John, I just couldn't tell you. I didn't want you to suffer." He admitted sincerely, the guilty tone of those who knew they had made a mistake.

But if he thought that doing so he could move John, he was wrong. 

"Oh and that's all right, isn't it? With that bitch coming into my office and telling me you kissed her. Christ, how much she must have enjoyed."

Paul frowned, ready to answer, "I didn’t start anything, _she_ kissed me."

"As if this changed something.” John snorted, crossing his arms.

"Of course it changes."

"Don't say bullshit, Paul! Why did you do that? Did you miss kissing a woman? You were bothered by my moustache, huh?”

Paul sighed frustratedly, running a hand in his hair. Well, that was exactly why he couldn't have told John the truth. John would find flaws in himself, he would blame both Paul and him, and it wasn't fair. Paul couldn't stand it.

"No, John, it was none of this. She was sad and..."

"Oh, how kind of you, Saint Paul from Liverpool. The one who kisses sad people to make them feel better."

"Fuck, John, stop it! And let me explain at least, instead of babbling nonsense."

God! How much he hated when John pulled out his useless and annoying sarcasm from I’m-fucking-pissed-off, and made Paul feel just like shit.

John slightly gasped at Paul's bossy tone of voice and remained silent, so that Paul could continue.

And Paul, taking a deep breath to calm his heart in turmoil and to find the right words, continued, "She was sad and I tried to comfort her. Maybe I was wrong and I was too naive, but it was my fault if firstly she was in a bad mood, and I had to try to make up for it. Then, all of a sudden, she kissed me. And that's it. I didn't start, John, and nothing else happened, I swear."

John bowed his head, sighing resignedly.

"It doesn't change anything, Paul. I don't care who kissed who first. You didn't tell me."

"I tried, John, believe me. And I'm sorry I didn't have the courage to do it, but I assure you it means nothing to me. It's nothing serious."

Paul tried to reassure him by taking his hand and smiled faintly, when John didn’t push him back. But it was only an instant of uncertainty, because John immediately shook his head and walked away.

"No, no, Paul. If it doesn't matter to you, why didn't you tell me? How can I believe it wasn't anything serious when you didn't even find the courage to tell me?"

Paul desperately searched for his eyes, but John didn't want to look at him and this was making him crazy and so insecure too. He was afraid to say something wrong, indeed, that whatever he said was wrong. He had no excuse, in the end, he knew. And John knew that, too.

"Because I... I saw how happy you were when you got home, and how good we were together these days and I didn't want to spoil what was between us for such a stupid thing. I didn’t want to lose you, John. You should understand me."

Finally John looked at him in the eyes and although a little anger had faded away, he knew he was still angry with Paul, he felt betrayed and disappointed by the person he trusted blindly.

"You should understand me most of all if I didn't tell you anything. Am I wrong?"

"It was different, Paul. You... you told me endlessly how much I had to trust you, and when you had the opportunity to prove it to me, you were the first not to trust me."

Paul shook his head, worried, increasingly worried, "No, it’s not like that."

"Yes, it is. You were afraid that I might leave you for something like this, that I wasn’t strong enough to get over it. And if you don't trust me, how can I get over it?"

"I... I..."

He had no words. He no longer knew what to say, the fear of losing John was a great block that prevented him from thinking with reason. He didn't seem to find a solution, not even the smallest. Everything he had to say was said. And now John was waiting for something Paul didn't know where to find and how to explain.

"How, Paul? Tell me!"

"I don't know."

John held his gaze until Paul, defeated, looked away first.

"That's it." he muttered before turning around and reaching the door.

"John, I'm really sorry." Paul said, finding a bit of strength in that last desperate attempt to convince him.

"I know."

"Are you going to forgive me?"

John didn't answer. He didn't even turn to look at him. He hesitated just a moment before stepping out the door and leaving Paul alone.

Alone with his fear that that silence on John's part could only mean one thing.

_No, I’m not_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii, sorry... that was a delay of a month. I'm really sorry, I have to study a lot for the exams and we started smartworking... Ahh, what a time!  
Anyway, this is the chapter. We still have 5 chapters till the end. So don't worry!  
Next chapter will be, Dear boy!  
Hope you guys are safe!  
Ciao  
Chiara


	11. Dear boy

God, how much he hated weather in London. One moment it was sunny and the one after it rained heavily.

Fuck the weather, and fuck him too, Paul, who had the brilliant idea of wandering through the streets of Chelsea without any particular reason.

After the fight he didn’t feel exactly the need to go home immediately. He had no desire to see anyone. Plus, he thought it was okay to let John let his anger cooling off. He'd never seen him so angry and _fuck!_, he had every reason to be.

Paul was wrong, he'd been weak, and he didn't trust John, and now everything was back against him. Of course, Heather contributed largely, but he couldn’t blame her entirely.

It was his fault.

So he had been wandering and when it started to rain, he rushed home. No matter if John didn't want to see him. He couldn't walk around with that rain.

Once at home, he immediately took off his soaked shoes and ran to his room to change his clothes. Wet and cold, he hadn’t noticed that the house was completely empty, apart from the two cats playing in front of the extinguished fireplace.

Now with dry clothes and hair, Paul went around the rooms, looking for John and Julian. They were both supposed to be home by now, it was dinner time.

But there was no sign of them. In fact, the car keys and Julian’s yellow submarine were also gone. And that wasn't exactly a good omen.

Did John run away? But where? And why? Just not to see him?

No, it couldn't be. He would never have run away like that.

But then thinking about it, it was perfectly understandable. He had already done it years before. And even though he promised Paul not to do it again, he fell back on it.

Paul fell on the bed with his cell phone in his hand, looking desperately at it, as if he thought John could call him at that very moment, or worse, as if staring at it with intensity John's call would come automatically.

_What a fool!_

He had no idea what to do. He had a feeling that if he phoned John, he wouldn't answer him.

And that's why he had to try to be strong. No, he wouldn't call him, and even though he was worried about John and Julian, he'd wait for him to show up. He had to. Fuck, they lived together now, it had to mean something, didn't it?

Absolutely. With his convictions, Paul decided to leave the bed and went downstairs. He didn't really want to eat, but he had to so he wouldn't faint. So he prepared a sandwich and opened a tin for Elvis and Pepper.

He was eating, bored while watching a silly show on television, when the phone rang and he gasped in his chair. He hurried to let go of his sandwich and reach his cell phone. The name that appeared on the screen was definitely the last one he expected.

“Cynthia?”

Cynthia's voice hesitated a moment before speaking,_ "Hello, Paul."_

It was really her!

"What... I mean, why do you-?"

_"John and Julian are here." _the woman hurried to explain.

Paul took some time to realize Cynthia's words, perhaps because he feared the consequences of this news on himself. 

"There? With you?"

_"Yes, they arrived an hour ago, I thought you wanted to know."_

"Yes, I... yes, thank you very much."

Of course, now he was calm knowing where the two Lennons were.

_“John was very upset. He didn't tell me what happened, but I sensed there had been some problems."_

Paul sighed, closing his eyes. A very huge problem, actually.

"That's it."

_"I'm very sorry, Paul. He told me you knew,_ _ but I doubt it was the truth."_

Paul squeezed his fingers on his cell phone. Why was John acting like this? Did Paul really deserve all this?

"No, I didn't know anything. I came home and they were gone. But I didn't think... "

He stopped without knowing how to continue: “_I didn't think they'd come_ _to you_” wasn't exactly fine to say to Cynthia, even though it was the truth.

_"Paul, don't worry. Leave it to me."_

"You don't have to worry."

_"I have to. Meanwhile just try to be calm. We'll fix it."_

Cynthia's very maternal and sweet voice seemed to be truly convinced that everything would be solved. Paul disagreed, not totally though. Part of him clung to that little hope. Plus, actually, he was tired and didn't want to talk. He just wanted to be on his own right now.

"Okay. Say good night to both from me, please?"

_"All right. Good night, Paul."_

Paul hung up and left his cell phone on the table. He didn't want to be rude to Cynthia, and he was quieter knowing where John and Julian were now, and yet...

Yet it wasn’t a good sign if John had run to her. Why her?

Why not George, for example, or Jim?

This discovery made him even more restless than he already was.

God, doubt continued to haunt him throughout the evening, as he pretended to watch a stupid movie, as he prepared for the night, as he settled alone in the bed that until the night before had been full of life and love.

He didn't want to think of John, Julian and Cynthia under the same roof. Jealousy became fierce to the image in his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them together and his heart was suffering and he desperately bit his lip to try to push it away.

He didn't even want to be jealous, he hated it. He had always criticized John for his jealousy, but, damn it, wasn't he the first to be jealous of John? Wasn’t he hypocritical?

However it was different. He felt nothing for Heather, and John's jealousy was due to his insecurity. It was something totally unfounded.

On the contrary, what Paul was doing was a lost battle. Cynthia had been John's first true love, she was Julian's mother, and despite her mistakes, she was still an important person for John and always would be for him and the child.

There were moments in their lives that Paul could no longer be a part of: Julian's birth, the trips they did together, the concerts and exhibitions they shared, both fans of music and art, their fights and making-ups... all those little everyday things that eventually made the days more beautiful.

And Paul felt left out, he always felt excluded from this part of their lives. Like when they were together and they remembered some nice funny memories. Paul felt out of this world.

Not being able to share all this with John made him sick, and now, with everything that had happened, it only made him feel worse.

He doubted he would spend a good night.

He wouldn’t dream sweet dreams.

And he probably wouldn't even sleep.

****

John was adjusting the sheets on the bed in the guest room at Cynthia and Jim's house. The doctor had the night shift, so he wasn't at home, while Cynthia was putting Julian to bed.

He still couldn’t believe in what he had done. He ran away from Paul. He went home, took Julian and some clothes, and drove to Cynthia’s, breaking the promise he made years earlier.

Why her? The decision had been sudden and not much thought out, let's face it. The only thing John wanted was to get away from Paul and go to a place where he would never come looking for him. So Jim's house was excluded, just like George and Pattie's. Cynthia lived outside London. Paul would never show up at her house because of his almost reverential fear, his stupid feeling of meddling in something that didn't concern him.

Of course it concerned him, who knows if he would understand it one day.

Meanwhile, though, John took advantage of it and was now there, with his son, waiting for the anger to cool off. He couldn't see Paul at that moment. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind showed him that woman with her arms all around Paul. And even though John knew how it really went now, it was still painful for him.

He had no regrets about running away, although his bastard heart suffered at the mere thought of leaving Paul alone with his doubts and fears. Maybe it would have been good for both.

“John?”

When Cynthia appeared, John stopped what he was doing.

"Did he fall asleep?"

"Yes, very difficultly without his plush, but I made it." Cynthia said, smiling satisfied.

John sighed relieved. Running so in a hurry, Julian's submarine had fallen somewhere in the street and although the child had protested, John ignored him and put him into the car without even trying to find it. After all, he was still nervous, it also started raining and knowing Paul, he feared he would come home as soon as possible. So they made the whole trip in the car with the kid crying desperately, and John hadn’t known what to say to calm him down. His heart had broken doubly, seeing his son so desperate, and guilt now burned in him along with the anger.

"Great job, my dear."

Cynthia smiled pleased as John winked at her, and she started to help him with the bed.

"Then, now may I know what happened?"

"To the sheet? I swear I didn't tear it up!" John said, raising his hands.

"John! Stop it!"

"Oh come on, Cyn, do we really have to talk about it tonight?" John protested, putting his hands on his hips.

Yes, he knew he remembered a lot of a fussing child, but he didn't care much.

"Since you came to my house without warning, out of breath, with our son along and Paul who didn't know where you were, yes, we have to talk about it tonight." She pointed out crossing her arms.

John looked at her, caught off guard, "Did you call Paul?"

Cynthia blushed, realizing she betrayed herself. But then she thought John really had no right to get angry with her.

"Yes, but it is useless for you to get angry. I owed it to him. I was sure you didn't tell him anything and I don't want him to spend a night tormenting himself and wondering where you two Lennons were."

John gasped, but it lasted for a while, before he shook his head, "Well, the princess would have deserved it."

"Why?"

"He kissed a colleague, okay?"

"I don't believe it even if I see it."

"Well, believe it, darling. He did, or at least... let's say that more than kissing, he was kissed." John said, and when he saw Cynthia open her mouth, he hurried to continue, "But! That's not the point."

"And what would be the point?" the woman asked, rolling her eyes.

"The point is that he didn't tell me. He had days to tell me and he didn't."

John sighed, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. Cynthia looked at him with a sweet smile on her face, before sitting next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't an easy thing to say, John."

Cynthia's voice was very calm and sympathetic. John felt a little anger leaving his body, but he was still very, very disappointed. Disappointment when it comes from those you love is even harder to overcome.

"But he always said we had to trust each other, and he didn't trust me."

"John?" Cynthia said, with a condescending smile, "Do you want me to believe that you wouldn't react like that if he told you right away?"

John gasped slightly under her hand. He hadn't thought of that. Definitely not!

"Well, however, it would have been different. I would have appreciated at least the sincerity. "

As an answer, she gave him a little push on his shoulder, "Oh stop, John, don't be a hypocrite!! Of course you'd be angry anyway."

"We'll never know." John commented, shrugging.

"’Course you would, and I can tell you because I know you as Paul does. I'm sure that's why he didn't tell you. He didn't want to make you angry nor suffer."

God, how unbearable had that conversation become? It made him want to run away. That was always his solution to everything, wasn't it?

Or almost. After all, the difficult situation with Cynthia was one of the few things he had never run away from. As if being with her could give him the power to deal with all his problems. Maybe that's why he went to hide in her house?

Maybe he was looking for a solution to his problems with Paul.

"Anyway now I'm angry and I needed to stay away from him for a while."

"I see, but try to get over it. Don't throw away these years of living together, you both fought so hard for it. Paul also stayed in London for you, didn't he?"

John bit his lip, before answering with a little voice, "Yes, sure."

"He did that for you. Now I'm not saying you have to get back to him right away, but in the end, when the anger cools off, what's left is just the desire to go home. And when that moment comes, I'd like you to follow it. Trust me, John."

John looked down, barely blushing. He hated being scolded. It would increase his insecurities and made him ashamed. And he hated when Cynthia was right. Damn it.

But she was, after all, just trying to help him and make him think, since apparently, John was being driven by his irrational side, so enraged with Paul.

"However, try to sleep now." the woman said, ruffling his hair.

"All right."

"And if you need something else for the night, just ask me."

"Thanks."

After saying good night, Cynthia walked out of the room. John abandoned himself on the bed, while Paul's thought tried to impose itself in his mind.

_Bossy as always, isn't it, Paul?_

He wondered what he was doing.

And who knows if he could fall asleep.

He, John, definitely wouldn't sleep.

****

"I must tell you, man."

"What?"

"It's a huge mess."

"I know, okay, George? You're no help."

Paul snorted, annoyed, pacing in the music shop. He was so nervous that he felt he had to keep his hands busy in any way, for example, grabbing all the CDs and vinyls that came on his way.

He hadn't even slept well. Because there had been a violent thunderstorm that kept him awake, but also because Elvis and Pepper, scared, had jumped on the bed and because the bed without John was so empty and cold and Paul couldn't sleep alone. Maybe that's what John meant when he told him that without him, in bed, he only had bad thoughts.

Yeah, well, Paul knew that right now.

"Come on, Paul, what do you want me to tell you? When John behaves like that, it's hard to reason with him if he doesn't cool off a little. Don't you think so? After all, you also needed to calm down before you forgave him."

Paul blushed, remembering that very difficult time in his life when he had been fought because of the very different feelings he felt. Hate and love, the same ones John was probably feeling now. It was an explosive mix.

"But behaving like this, it almost seems like I did everything intentionally. And I assure you I didn't." Paul protested, heartfelt.

"I'm sure, but he sees it as a betrayal. It's his paranoia, you know."

Paul nodded as he put _Space_ _Oddity_'s vinyl in place_,_ right after David Bowie's divider. Of course, he knew John's paranoids, and he knew that many of his insecurities were due to being abandoned too many times by his loved ones. And since it had already happened, maybe John was afraid that Paul would abandon him again. But for whom? Heather? He couldn't really think so. John knew Paul would never leave him.

He knew that, didn't he?

"He went to Cynthia's, did I tell you?"

"Yes, Paul, twice." George sighed, with his arms on the counter.

However Paul didn’t seem to notice George's exhausted tone and kept on speaking, "I didn't see that coming."

George had to agree, "Neither do I, to tell the truth."

"Why did he do that?" Paul asked, finally turning to look at him with an abandoned puppy expression that hit George fully.

"I don't know, Paul, I'm not John." his friend answered sincerely.

"But you've known him for longer."

George thought a little about it, before sighing resigned and shrugging, "Perhaps he thought it would be the last place you would look for him."

Paul nodded, thinking that what George said was quite reasonable. Yet there was a doubt in his head that had been tormenting him since the previous evening, suggesting him a potentially catastrophic scenario, for Paul, of course.

"You don't think he's...?"

"What?"

"That he is still in love with her."

George looked up at the sky. It was bad to say, but... god, he hated dealing with Paul and John when they had a fight. They could become real dickheads. He had experienced it before with John and now with Paul. It was useless, it seemed that they completely lost their mind and became... yes, they became stupid, totally different people from the ones he usually had to deal with.

So he jumped on his feet and got closer to Paul, resting his hands on his shoulders.

"Paul, man, can you hear yourself when you say this shit? It is unthinkable that John is still in... no, I can't even say it."

"But perhaps, now that she's better, he wants to try again." Paul continued, his voice trembling as if he fully knew that he was saying a great bullshit.

But was it really bullshit?

"No, look, I refuse to go on with this conversation." George muttered, "The only relationship John can have now with Cynthia is only in relation to Jules. You don't have to worry about anything else, Paul. I mean, you're going to have a child together, right?"

Paul bit his lip. Yes, there was that matter, too. What a fool he was. For a moment he had completely forgotten, too busy thinking of John. But he didn't think he could be blamed. He wanted a child with John. If he hadn't had John, it wouldn't have been the same.

"I'm not so sure anymore."

"Come on, you'll see that it’ll be just like that. You guys will go through this and everything will be fine. I’m absolutely sure."

"But he didn't even call me to tell me where he was going." Paul pointed out, his voice was still so sad.

Yet George was very self-confident. It was hard not to get infected by his optimism. It spoke directly to that part of Paul so in love which would cling to anything, just to keep on and not go crazy.

"You know John is a jerk when he's angry. And then why don't you try calling him?" George asked and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm afraid he won't answer me."

"Well if you don't try, you'll never know, won’t you? If I were you, I would call him. I don't think he's expecting it now and he's definitely going to answer you."

"But I don't know what to tell him." Paul murmured, biting his fingernail.

"Make up an excuse, maybe tell him you found Julian's stuffed toy out here." George pointed to the yellow submarine on the counter.

Paul followed him with his eyes. God, his heart lost a beat when he left the house to go to George and found it thrown into the corner of the sidewalk, still drenched in the storm of the night before. He hurried immediately to pick it up and tried to clean it a little. The beautiful yellow colour had got dirty and now it was of a sad ochre colour. Maybe it had fallen when the Lennons left the house and John didn't want to waste time picking it up.

The thought had been terrible to bear: John was so angry with him that he didn’t even listen to his son's request. Paul shuddered and didn't even want to imagine the child's desperate cries. He didn't think he could talk to John about this. He didn’t have the strength.

"Or something about the concert?" Paul added.

"That’s it, even better. It's tomorrow night, isn't it? He must come back. It's his school too."

Paul nodded, "It's _mostly_ his school."

"Not to mention that he must be present when I’ll humiliate meself in front of the audience.” George commented, getting a smile from Paul.

So the day of the concert arrived and John had to come back home. They needed him, all of them.

"You’re so silly, George!"

Especially Paul.

****

The next morning Julian was still angry with his dad, so he didn't talk with him and played with his mom in the living room.

John watched them closely, happy on the one hand that Cynthia could share that moment with their son, but on the other he was frustrated because he tried to apologize to the child, promising him that he would buy a new toy, and Julian just ignored him completely, continuing to play. By then John had given up fighting with his son as well. He couldn’t have gotten his attention in any way, except by finding his stuffed toy. But at the time it was virtually impossible.

A little voice inside him told him that Julian inherited his temper, and maybe it was true. God, was he really so stubborn, too? He was afraid of it.

John sighed as his mind went back to the game between Julian and Cynthia.

"No, mom, you can’t put the green one here. This is Spider Man's car."

Julian took Lego's green goblin from his mother's hands, before he placed it in the superhero's car.

"Oops, sorry, darling."

Cynthia chuckled softly as the child showed her what to do, "Dhani says he's the villain and can't be in the same car as Spider Man."

"Why?"

"Because Spider man is a hero, mom." Julian explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That’s right." Cynthia agreed, looking amused towards John, "And what else does Dhani say?”

"That Spider Man is the coolest of superheroes."

"Really?"

Julian nodded, jumping on his feet and reaching the nearest wall, "Because he climbs the walls like this, see?"

Cynthia looked at him tenderly as the child opened his hands and pretended to climb the wall along with his tiny Spider Man toy.

"Of course. Dhani knows a lot of things, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"Do you like to play with him?" his mother asked, when the child sat again on the floor with her.

“Very, very, very much.”

"And tell me, do you have any other friends besides him?"

"Yes, but every now and then they make me angry." Julian answered with a pout.

"Why?"

"Because they steal things from my case."

"That's not fair." Cynthia said, shaking her head.

"Paul says so too."

John gasped, but tried not to show him when Cynthia looked at him to check his reaction. Her eyes lingered a second longer on him, as if she were trying to figure out something beyond John's mask. Then she gave up.

"Paul is right, luv. And friends are important. You just behave properly with them, so you can play together often."

"Yes. You know, mom, dad says I'm going to have a brother to play with soon."

This time it was Cynthia's turn to gasp and she opened her eyes more, which immediately darted searching for John. The man swallowed soundly, with a little smile. _Oops!_

"A _brother_?”

"Or a sister. Dad and Paul asked me if I wanted one."

"And do you want?"

"Of course. I'm older and I have to teach him everything." the child replied, pointing to himself with a very proud look, "That's what dad said."

"Oh, dad says a lot of things, doesn't he, luv?"

Julian nodded, all intent on playing with the bricks of Spider Man's car.

"Jules, honey, now you finish playing and then tidy up the toys, while mom and dad go and prepare lunch. All right?"

“Ok.”

Cynthia stood up and made a nod to John to follow her into the kitchen. John sighed, resigned to the telling-off that he would get in a few moments, but he stood up and followed the woman. His steps were heavy, as if he were dead man walking.

When they arrived in the kitchen, he tried to speak first, "Before you say anything, I..."

But Cynthia wouldn't let him. She had become very bossy. She reminded him of Paul, sometimes.

"A brother, John? A _brother_?”

"Or a little sister, you know, fifty- fifty possibilities." John pointed out, grinning.

"John!" Cynthia said it, "Is it too hard to be serious for five minutes?"

The man looked up and snorted, crossing his arms, "Fine then. Paul wants to become a father and I told him it was okay for me."

"And raise a kid together?"

"Yes, of course, we are a family. A little different than usual, but I mean, we love each other and we’re still a family."

"I don't doubt it, but try to understand me. After what happened yesterday, the last thing I expected to hear was that you guys were thinking about having a child together." Cynthia explained.

She didn't seem upset. She seemed worried, like John. So it wasn't surprising.

“Paul wants it badly." John explained, wrinkled his forehead when his heart clenched to Paul's name, "At first I was afraid he would leave me, because, you know, it's all more complicated for us. But he wants to have this with me and that makes me happy, really happy."

Cynthia looked at him carefully before replying, "And how are you going to do... I mean, as..."

"Well, we've been informed and now we know what to do, you know, for the various practices and all the bureaucratic stuff, we just have to find a surrogate mother."

“Oh.”

John took a deep breath before approaching and shaking the woman's hands with her own. Was he really going to do it?

Yes, it was the right time to ask her.

"And you see, Cyn, I haven't talked to Paul about it yet, but I'd like you to be our surrogate mother."

Cynthia stared at him open-mouthed, totally taken aback, as if it were the last thing she expected at the time, even less than the fact that John wanted a child with Paul.

"You're crazy." she stated, trying to escape from John's grip, but he squeezed her more.

"Why? You're perfect. We need a friend or relative to do it just to help us. You're the perfect one, you're a family member, and we live close to each other, you know... we're going to do everything, you just have to do this to us... this gift."

"Yes, _just._ Look, John, I don't know if I can. I mean, I don't want to fall back into what I went through with Julian."

"And it won't happen, it won't be the same, I promise you. Plus you're a strong woman now, and you won't be alone. You'll have us close."

Cynthia bit her lip, avoiding looking at John, and he cursed himself. Perhaps he had become a little too involved in that matter and started talking unrestrainedly, and above all he was acting without thinking of anything else: Cynthia, for example, or how she felt about another pregnancy, Paul and everything that had happened in the last few days.

But he wasn’t so surprised to realize his involvement, always alive despite the circumstances. He still wanted all those things and he wanted them with Paul.

"Anyway..." he began to say, trying to calm down his enthusiasm, "You don’t have to answer now. I mean, I still have a lot of stuff to fix with Paul, and we need to talk about it together. But I'd like you to think about it. And if you say no, I'll understand, don't worry. I don't want to force you to do something you don't want."

Cynthia looked at him hesitantly. She seemed to think about it really hard, and John kept staring at her quietly. Finally she nodded and sighed.

"Alright, John." she answered and John smiled softly, before hugging her, "I'll think about it."

"Sorry if I upset you."

The woman gave him some reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Don't think about it. I can see you care a lot."

John chuckled to disguise the embarrassment, but it was true. Cynthia was still very good at understanding that.

"Now how about I help you cooking? I'm kind of starving."

"All right."

A few minutes later they were in the middle of making some sort of pasta, when John's cell phone began to ring insistently. He hurried to take it and as soon as he saw the name on the display, he felt his heart miss a beat.

_Paul!_

Okay, he wasn't expecting this. He thought Paul would never, ever call him while he was there, because of his guilt and stupid fear of always being inappropriate. And yet there he was, calling him, and John couldn't help but stare like an idiot at his cell phone, unsure whether to answer or not.

"It's Paul, isn't it?" Cynthia asked with a smile.

John nodded.

"Well, aren’t you going to answer?"

Of course, he had to answer, right? What if Paul was calling him for a serious reason? What if something happened? He _had_ _to_ answer.

His fingers trembled imperceptibly when he accepted the call.

"Hello?" John said, and for a moment he suffered at the remote possibility of not hearing Paul's voice on the other side.

_"Hi, John."_

Paul was right there though.

"Hi."

_"You okay?"_

His voice was attentive and uncertain, but he was there.

"Yes, thank you." John answered, then he walked away from the kitchen to seek some sort of privacy.

_"What about Julian?"_

"We're alright, Paul, don't worry. Did you need anything?"

He knew full well that he had been rude. Or at least, his tone had seemed cold and rude, almost annoyed. John himself, who had never been bothered to hear Paul's voice. And yet that was stronger than him, it was due to that crazy, stupid part of himself too proud and still too angry with Paul.

_"I... yes, I’ve called you just to know if you were coming tonight."_

John's mind, too busy realizing how sorry Paul was for his tone, seemed to come back and connect with Paul's question.

"Tonight?"

_"To the concert, John, it's tonight."_

_Fuck, the concert_. The fucking concert!

"Oh... oh, yes. It's tonight."

_"Then, will you come?"_

His heart gasped, creating a delightful void in his belly when he felt in Paul's voice all the hope he had in seeing him again. God! Like he was a little boy on his first crush.

Like he just fell in love with Paul.

All over again.

"I don't know, Paul, you know... I don't think I can, if she’s there-"

_"John, please, you must come."_

John sighed, closing his eyes. His heart was beating louder and louder in his chest and ears, making it difficult for him to hear Paul's voice.

“Paul…”

_"School and kids need you."_

But Paul always found a way to make himself heard by John.

_"And so do I."_

No, no, no, he couldn't do that. Paul couldn't call him and use his sneaky seduction techniques on John to have him giving in.

He couldn’t use his powerful words, his sweet and always damn sensual voice to make John falter.

He just couldn't.

John wasn't ready to forgive him yet. He wouldn't let him win this time.

Then why did he feel damn guilty when he hung up without answering?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, new chapter finally! Yes!!  
I'm so sorry, I'd like to translate the chapter faster, but I have to study and work on the pc all day, so when the evening comes, I can do very little about translating because my eyes ache. ç_ç Besides the chapters are becoming longer and longer. Ahaha.  
Ok, so, I really hope you like the chapter.   
Next chapter, "I know"... Will John go to the concert?  
Who knows.  
Ciaoo  
Chiara


	12. I know

Paul kept walking back and forth in the courtyard of the _Chelsea Theatre, _unable to stand still.

Less than half an hour at the beginning of the concert and not even John’s shadow was on the horizon. They had all arrived: George and Pattie, the kids, the teachers, and even Richard with his family, to attend the concert. Everyone except John.

They had chosen that small theater with a grey-coloured room with black staircases for the audience. It was a little sad, actually, but it was the only thing they could afford at the time.

The problem was that with John's absence, Paul didn't feel he could handle that night alone. He was just a teacher.

He couldn't believe John hadn't come, and all in him screamed that he wouldn't. However, Paul was there, looking pathetically at his watch and then at his cell phone, hoping in spite of everything that John wouldn’t let him down and show up, even at the last moment. But he had to come.

After all, John was still his soulmate, Paul felt it. Somewhere inside him, he was certain it was John.

"Still nothing on the horizon?"

Suddenly George appeared beside him, making him barely gasp. There was Pattie with him.

Well, if nothing else, the hosts arrived.

"No, nothing yet." Paul snorted.

Pattie smiled encouragingly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "He’s going to arrive, Paul, don't worry."

Paul nodded, a little unsure. He would want so much to cling desperately to her optimism. But he was too afraid to be disappointed. One more time.

Then he looked better at the two and smiled faintly, "You two guys look great."

Pattie wore a beautiful blue dress that made her eyes stand out. It arrived just above her knees and folded her chest and then continued into a soft bell skirt. Her hair was tied back in a side plait, with a few strands that had stuck out and fell back over her pretty face. George was also very elegant: he had a white shirt, waistcoat and black trousers, a blue bow tie that recalled his partner's dress and that George kept loosening, as it was a dog collar.

"Thank you, Paul." Pattie exclaimed, pleased.

"It's useless that you act like a lap dog, because you and that damn Lennon will pay for it." George muttered, with his fingers in his collar.

"Oh come on!" Pattie said, as Paul smiled amusedly, "It’s for our friends."

"And he better show up now, otherwise he will pay for it twice."

"Georgie, darlimg, stop now. I feel like I'm dealing with Dhani when he's on a whim. In fact, let me tell you that it's even worse, since you're a grown up man, my dear."

George crossed his arms with a pout, "I'm not whimsical."

"Oh yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

Paul laughed a little in front of the two lovebirds bickering. He couldn't wait to see what they would do on stage. John had had a great idea asking them to be the hosts of the evening.

He was in the middle of trying to calm down George and Pattie when they were joined by Heather.

"Good evening, Paul."

Paul's smile disappeared from his face. Just seeing that woman had brought him back immediately to the terrible fight with John and everything that happened after.

“Heather.”

"I was looking for you."

Paul bit his lip, trying to hold back the emotions that those memories were making explode. Plus he didn't want to give Heather the satisfaction of noticing the effect that she had on him.

"Well." he replied, crossing his arms and holding her gaze, "You found me. What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask you to let James and Martha rehearse again one last time for the duet."

Heather didn't seem particularly nervous, perhaps because she didn't know what happened between him and John. And so it had to continue.

"They have already rehearsed enough, and make them do it again, a few minutes from the beginning of the concert will only make them more nervous."

"Listen." the woman continued, lowering her voice after a quick look at George and Pattie, "I know you're still mad at me about that kissing thing, but I think we should try to work together for the kids. At least tonight."

"Don't worry about the kids. I know how to deal with them. And as for the rest, you're wrong, my dear. I'm not mad at you."

It wasn't really a lie. After all, Heather had simply showed a problem that was already there. Paul had no total confidence in his relationship with John. He was even afraid to reveal their story to their colleagues. It was this that led him to make mistakes and ruin everything. And he still had no confidence, if he kept thinking that John wouldn't show up. But it was time to change now.

"But-"

"At first yes, I was very angry; then I realized that you actually did me a great favour."

Heather stared at him upset, with two big eyes revealing all her surprise, "A favour?"

"Of course. What happened made me realize a lot of things about my relationship with John, a lot of things that didn't go well and that I want to change. It made me realize what I'm willing to do for him."

"What?"

Yes, _what?_ It seemed like such a complicated question, one that Paul probably hadn't asked himself since he was with John. What was he willing to do for the one he loved? How much was you willing to risk for the sake of another person?

If Paul thought back to what John had done for him, what Paul had done for John, the projects they were sharing, then the answer became very simple.

"_Everything_. And I owe it to you."

"I don't-"

"So as you see, I can't be angry. In fact, I think I should thank you."

When Paul smiled at her, Heather became furious and all red in the face. She squeezed her lips into a thin line, before turning on her heels and walking away. Paul watched her leave, feeling his heart lighter.

He had lived the last few years with the fear of losing John. Sometimes fear had simply been unconscious, hidden somewhere within him. Other times it would awaken and become fierce, devouring him from the inside and leading him to wrong choices and behaviours. As with Heather.

But now he felt free. He faced Heather with confidence and made things clear with her once and for all.

Now all he was missing was fixing everything else, that was John. He hoped he'd come, so he'd see how different Paul was. More confident in himself and also in both of them. He didn't have to be afraid of losing John because he knew that whatever happened, they would get through it together.

"All right, mate?"

George called him back, with a hand on his shoulder, and Paul turned to him with a smile.

"All right."

"Good. Then we’re going in to get ready."

Paul nodded, sighing, "Yes, I'll be there in a minute."

The two young hosts disappeared inside the theater. Paul looked at his watch once more.

Time was up and John wasn't there. Paul decided to call him to find out where the fuck he was. He was about to take his cell phone, when his eyes ran into something right in front of him.

There he was, John, _his_ John. Paul bit his lip as his heart went crazy with joy and it began to beat so hard that he thought he was going to die for a moment.

But no, he wasn't dying, he was just happy, really happy that John had finally come. And, God, how beautiful he was. He was wearing a T-shirt with the cover of _The Dark Side of the Moon__, _along with a white jacket, tight jeans and a pair of white Converses. Of course, Paul would never have made him come to the concert like that, but he didn't care much now about how he was dressed. He was a vision, and Paul felt like he was seeing him for the first time. As if he had always known he was in love with someone, and now there he was, he had just found the person he had dreamed of for a lifetime.

He wasn't surprised by his own reaction. In the last few days he learned not to give anything and anyone for granted, especially John. And John was precious and had to be protected.

When John finally approached, stopping in front of him, Paul smiled, sure that he would win him back that night.

"Hi, John."

“Paul.”

John gave him a simple nod, but Paul couldn't stop smiling, "I'm glad you came."

"Well, it's our school, after all." John stated, shrugging his shoulders, carelessly, "The first concert of our kids, I couldn't miss it."

"It's true." Paul agreed.

John continued to stare intently at him, and Paul felt himself faltering under his gaze, because he had the extraordinary power to find the smallest of Paul's insecurities and use it to his advantage.

But Paul wouldn't let him. Not now that he felt self-confident.

“How’s Julian?”

"Well, I left him with Cynthia."

"I found the submarine this morning."

"Really? Where?"

John's expression changed suddenly: he abandoned the veil of coldness with which he had introduced himself to Paul and became so full of interest and hope. Paul was delighted to have witnessed that change. It warmed him up, as if nothing had happened with John and they were talking about something as simple as Julian's favorite plush.

"On the pavement. It was all drenched because of the storm, you know, but I already put it in the washing machine and it came back as new."

"Thank you." John said, with a little smile.

And for Paul, that was already a small victory.

"I guess he was desperate..."

John nodded, sighing, "Yes, very much desperate. He hasn't spoken to me since yesterday."

"Well, don’t worry, it’ll be alright. He's crazy about you."

John nodded, his gaze was still uncertain, but it softened and Paul noticed it with pleasure. Another small step towards reconciliation.

"George and Pattie?"

"They’re in. I think George's pretty nervous.”

"Who? Mister Be-cool? I can’t believe it."

"He said he’s going to make you pay dearly..."

John snorted, laughing softly and beginning to walk toward the theater. Paul hurried to follow him.

"He just has to try."

****

At last he convinced himself to go. He had also decided to talk to Cynthia about it.

In fact, she almost blackmailed him.

_"If you don't go to that damn concert, I won't let you into the house again."_

And said by the sweet Cyn it was a real threat.

So he dressed nicely and left for London. He decided not to take Julian with him, because the child was still angry with him and John wanted to leave them alone, but mainly because he would see Paul and couldn’t take care of an angry son and a partner who disappointed him at the same time.

Paul was awesome, as always: so elegant with his blue shirt with three-quarter sleeves and tight trousers that perfectly folded his long legs. Seeing him again after what happened had almost cut his breath, but John resorted to all his still wounded pride not to show him what effect he had on him. And he was so damn lovable, in his usual way, which always drove him crazy.

Paul followed him into the theater, until they found George and Pattie behind the scenes. George scolded John for his huge delay, while all of them had been much more than punctual.

"Hey, the important thing is that I’m here, isn't it?"

"Of course." Pattie agreed, but George wasn’t exactly of the same opinion.

"No, it’s not. I was worried. Asking me for a favour like that, and not even showing up. You’re some cheeky beggar, you know?"

George crossed his arms and frowned so much that his two eyebrows seemed to join in one.

"Come on, all this for a little delay. If I didn't know you well, I'd almost say you’re crapping out, right, Georgie?"

That said, he patted him on the cheek, while Paul and Pattie giggled amused by their bickering.

"You wish." George protested briskly, "I'm perfectly capable of facing an audience, and I'll prove it."

"I can't wait. By the way, where does this tie come from?"

John made to fix it with a sardonic smile, but George moved suddenly, as if he was afraid to get a shock.

"Hey, stop it. Don't touch me."

"How elegant we are, Georgina."

"Stop it, John, if you were to come just to bother me, you could have stayed home."

John laughed as his friend settled down his bow tie with a pout.

He loved making fun of him when he was so nervous. He was grateful for what he and Pattie were doing for their school, but he couldn't resist the temptation to tease him a little. Also because, let's face it, he was nervous himself, standing next to Paul. It was as if he wanted to talk to him, but something held him back: even if he felt the desperate need to look at him, he was still afraid to find him with Heather. He noticed her around the scenes with one of her students, but he had tried to ignore her and the memory of that smug smiley face when she told him she had kissed Paul.

_What a bitch!_

Instead, he tried to focus on Paul.

And once again, after realizing that at some point in the bickering with George, Paul had walked away, called by someone else, his eyes immediately snapped in search of him. They found him with a child with a guitar bigger than himself, who received Paul’s last advices about the song. John smiled to himself as Paul leaned over to the child and tried to encourage him on what would be _'the coolest performance of that night'’_!

Paul had always been a great teacher. John really believed it, that's why he thought about the idea of the school.

Then, involuntarily, and of course, absolutely _involuntarily!_, his gaze fell on the curve of his back and… god!, if he had bloody missed that perfect view.

He bit his lip at the decidedly inappropriate thought and tried to kick it as far away from him as possible, however inviting. And although he succeeded in his intent, when Paul turned to get back to them and locked eyes with him, John blushed violently.

_Fuck!_

"It’ll be better to start, time’s up." John said, more to try to mask the embarrassment than anything else.

"Funny that you’re the one saying _time’s up_!” George retorted snorting.

John grinned at him and the friend reciprocated.

"Should we introduce you too?" Pattie asked, ignoring the two guys glowering at each other, "Do you want to say something to start?"

Paul immediately looked for John, who sent him an absolutely unmistakable look.

_Not even dead!_

"Er, maybe it's better not."

"But it's your school. It has your name." the woman pointed out, wrinkled her forehead.

"Yes, but-“ Paul began, immediately interrupted by George.

"Pattie is right. People will expect something, right?"

Facing the insistence of the two hosts, Paul looked again at John. George and Pattie weren't all wrong, actually. But John was adamant, his eyes frightened and his mouth pulled into a fine line, and Paul had no intention of getting on stage alone.

"Actually we prefer not to."

"All right, then… it’s showtime?" Pattie asked not entirely convinced, while George shook his head disagreeing with John’s decision.

"It’s showtime." Paul repeated.

He and John followed them with their eyes as the two went on the stage. The lights in the theatre went down and the audience began to applaud. And maybe that was what made the two hosts nervous.

Pattie began to smile shyly, while George had his face paralyzed by terror. Fortunately, the woman gathered enough courage to start speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to the first concert of the Lennon/McCartney music school. My name is Pattie."

Pattie smiled, while George looked petrified at the audience. He should have said something now, but he couldn’t. When Pattie realized, she gave him a slight push with her elbow, and he gasped, returning to himself.

"And I am George." He stammered uncertainly, taking a quick glance in the direction of Paul and John.

The latter smiled amusedly at him, greeting him with his hand, and George bit his lip, annoyed.

"Tonight the performances of our student will give us many surprises. The songs proposed by the students and their teachers will be very varied and will range from classical music to rock 'n' roll."

"But first..." George interrupted her, with a newfound and surprising confidence, "We wanted to invite the two co-founders of the school on stage. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for John Lennon and Paul McCartney."

Paul gasped visibly, before turning to his partner. John bleached in his face and had his mouth open, in an expression of pure shock.

Well, they didn't expect that.

And now the whole audience applauded, looking in the direction showed by George.

"Come on, guys." The _so called friend_ urged them.

Paul knew that making the audience wait wasn’t the ideal solution: they were trapped, true, but they had to move not to make a bad impression in front of those who were their customers. So he moved forward and noticing that John wasn’t following him, he reached out an arm to grab him and drag him. He succeeded, not without a little resistance from his partner.

When Paul stood next to George, he glanced at him, before turning to the audience, knowing full well that it was up to him to speak. John didn't seem in the condition, too busy not to panic and to mentally curse at George.

"Thank you, thank you all for being here tonight. And thank you to George and Pattie who will be our official hosts of our first concert. As already mentioned, tonight's schedule will be very huge and all our students have worked hard to get to this moment. From me and John, of course, a special thank you goes out to all of you who have supported us since the school has been started. It's been two years. Hopefully we can go on like this and..."

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy your well spent money as well."

John took him by the elbow, while Paul looked at him bewildered and startled, incredulous that he really said it. Was he crazy?

Luckily, however, the audience laughed, unexpectedly, at least for Paul, and he relaxed, letting himself be dragged off the stage by John.

Once they were safe, John snorted, "Fuck, _he'll _pay me now. I'll show you."

Paul just laughed. After hours and hours of tension, he finally let himself go and laughed amused. John stared at him surprised.

"Well?"

"What?"

"What's that for?" John asked.

Paul shook his head, an amused smile still pulled his lips, "Nothing. I'm just glad you're here."

John gasped when Paul’s big, sweet, warm eyes met his own. He was still addicted to that look and he would always be, he knew.

"Yes, you've already said so."

"Because it's true." Paul exclaimed, winking at him.

John bit his lip. He knew exactly what Paul was doing. And if on the one hand he found it absolutely irresistible, on the other he was frightened. He was afraid to get involved again, to rely on Paul again. He was afraid to suffer.

Not that Paul was the only one to blame in that situation. He, too, had his good responsibilities. However John was having trouble getting over the matter. What if he succeeded and then suffered again? He didn't think he could resist.

“John?”

“Mm?”

"Will you come home now? You and Julian?” Paul asked, his eyes were sparkling with hope.

“Paul, I..."

"I miss you so much." he added at once, and could not hold himself from taking John's hand.

John immediately pulled it away, with an instinctive gesture.

Paul's heart clenched in his chest, as if suddenly it became smaller. John was so stubborn. He didn't seem to have any intention of yielding to Paul's attempts to make up.

"I don't know, Paul, I really don't know."

Neither Paul knew what to do now.

How could he win John back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't see it coming, did you? A new chapter so soon. Ahaha! Well, what can I say? It's actually shorter than the others, so it was quite easy to translate.   
Anyway, John showed up at last... yes, good boy, Johnny. :3  
Only 3 chapters left now. The next one, My love, is long, very long... my goodness.   
What's going to happen now? Anyone?   
We will see... ;)  
Ciao!!  
Chiara


	13. My love

It was amazing what Paul did with those kids.

He reunited his students in a group and all together they performed at the end of the concert in _Bohemian Rhapsody._ No doubt it was a great task, and John also considered it a risk, if he were to be honest. But Paul reassured him that everything would be fine and so that was the closing number.

Paul was right, once again. It had been impressive, an exciting crescendo that took you by the belly and left you totally speechless. Paul managed the group's arrangement very well. Each student had a small solo, had his moment of glory, so jealousy and quarrels were avoided, which remained close-knit.

That's why John wasn't surprised at all when at the end of the performance the audience applauded enthusiastically. Sure, all the kids that night had been good, but of course, a choral performance always had greater potential. Not to mention the importance of the chosen song. Paul was so smart!

The students welcomed the applause with big smiles, under the satisfied and proud gaze of their teacher.

John found himself smiling too. Paul worked hard that year and achieved a great result, and John could only be happy for him.

"Well, let’s hear it for our kids." Pattie said, as she walked into the scene followed by George, as the applause began to wane.

The audience went on applauding, but suddenly burst out laughing, the moment George stumbled into one of the amps' wires. Luckily Pattie was there to catch him before he fell to the ground. But because of the laughter and the applause, George immediately became red in the face.

John noticed his friend's expression and laughed amused. Finally! He'd spent all night hoping George would do something John could make fun of for the rest of his life, and now he'd got it. Ah, he couldn't wait to rub it in his face. He deserved it, after the trick he did to John and Paul.

Pattie found a way to distract the audience and her husband from the little accident, "We thank professor McCartney's students, who ended this wonderful evening with an incredible performance."

After enjoying the applause, the kids came off the stage, and George smiled and looked at Pattie.

He decided to seize the opportunity she created to get a grip, "Professor, what do you think of your students’ work?"

The teacher was also busy laughing at George's accident, and he didn't really expect the question. But on the other hand, he was the only one on the stage, other than the two hosts.

"Er, I..."

His gaze immediately looked for John in the audience. Not a difficult search, since Paul had eyed him from the first moment he went on stage. And just as easily, and not without a little satisfaction, he could say that John hadn’t taken his eyes off him during their performance from his position, standing at the end of the theater.

When he found him, he smiled and relaxed.

"They were absolutely great. And I'm sure next year we'll be able to do even better. So, don't miss it."

And relaxing, alone, on that stage, his guitar still in his hand from the performance with his kids, he finally realized how he could win John back, his confidence and his heart.

"Well." Pattie continued, "And hoping we could see you next year too, tonight we say goodbye."

There was only one thing that would convince John that Paul was different now.

"Wait, please."

Pattie and George turned to him, both curious about what was happening.

"There's one last song I'd like to play." Paul explained, looking at the two hosts, _"Now."_

Yes, Paul knew that was unscheduled, and George probably hated him because he wouldn't let that fucking torture finish, but he had to. And luckily Pattie got it.

"Then, ladies and gentlemen, for you, Paul McCartney."

Paul thanked the two friends with a nod, clasped his guitar and looked again at John. His heart was beating so fast that he was certain it would leap out at any moment.

Was he really going to do it?

If he wanted John back with him, then yes. Besides, there was nothing wrong with it, right?

Everything would be fine. John had always told him, and Paul wanted to show him that he now believed him and trusted him. Blindly.

"Before we end this evening, I'd like to play for you a song. I wrote it with the help of Professor Martin for the arrangement, and I would like to dedicate it to someone. A very important person to me, my best half. John Lennon."

If there was a murmur in the background, in the audience, Paul didn't really care.

"I thought I had everything, before I knew him. I thought I was happy, but as he once pointed out, it was only easier to think that was my life, when actually it was just my prison. The idea of our school is his, as well as the total upheaval of my life, my whole existence, my heart."

With his eyes he carefully stared at John, but the lights dazzled him and Paul couldn’t tell if he was having the desired effect on him. They would talk later.

"And this song too."

So, he decided not to annoy the audience any further and started playing and singing. His fingers trembled and betrayed him in the initial chords, but then he totally forgot that there were dozens and dozens of people listening to him. He focused only on the person at the end of the theatre, who stared at him with an expression of full astonishment. He focused on singing only for John, as if they were alone in their bedroom.

_“Who knows how long I've loved you_

_You know I love you still_

_Will I wait a lonely lifetime_

_If you want me to I will”_

John couldn't really believe what Paul said, what he was doing.

Damn, Paul had pretty much revealed that behind "Lennon/McCartney" there was not only a professional partnership, but also something infinitely more intimate and yes, precious, still damn precious to John.

_“For if I ever saw you_

_I didn't catch your name_

_But it never really mattered_

_I will always feel the same”_

He was dedicating a song to him, not just any song. His song. _His love song._

And it was beautiful, the song he had written for John, and beautiful was also Paul, with his sweaty face shining in the spotlight, his hands shaking but keeping on playing, and his sweet voice singing for him, just for John.

_“Love you forever and forever_

_Love you with all my heart_

_Love you whenever we're together_

_Love you when we're apart”_

John's heart was so full of emotions that he didn't know which one was prevailing. Maybe none, actually. And so John could do nothing but stand still, as he stayed all evening, at the end of the theater, with his gaze firmly planted on the stage... no, _on his Paul._

His Paul singing that song so perfect for them, that song that gently cradled him, as Paul cradled him when John needed him. And the only thing John could think of was how much he loved him, how much he made every fiber of his body shake, how much he was willing to do for Paul.

_“And when at last I'll find you_

_Your song will fill the air_

_Sing it loud so I can hear you_

_Make it easy to be near you”_

And he would really do anything for Paul. There was no point in denying it. He was just asking him another chance, and who was John not to give it to him? Right John, who had teased him years ago and betrayed his trust.

No, John had no right to judge him and turn him away. Especially now that Paul showed his confidence in him.

_“For the things you do endear you to me_

_Ah, you know I will_

_I will”_

Especially now that he loved him more than before.

****

John was gone. Again.

Paul came off the stage all trembling. Shocked and upset, but happy. He overcame an important fear of his, but he just tried, for John. And it was something that made him feel good.

But discovering that John was no longer there, neither in the hall nor anywhere in the theater, disappointed him endlessly. He didn’t see it coming. He even managed to run away from all the other people in the audience.

At the end of the concert he was sure parents would rush over to complain or inform him they would withdraw their children from school as soon as possible. Thankfully none of this happened. The audience seemed to welcome Paul's revelation very well: everybody applauded warmly his performance.. It had been an absolutely normal evening from that point of view.

Of course, some professors looked at him with obvious surprise on their faces, especially Heather, and this made Paul feel better.

Richard also approached with his family to talk to him, but Paul wasn’t exactly in the right mood, given the fact that his eyes were constantly looking for John. Since he didn't want to make a bad impression with his former boss, he asked him if they could meet the next day to talk about everything Richard wanted. The man accepted, and Paul could tell he also understood why.

George and Pattie congratulated about his courage and helped him find John, but in the end all three of them gave in, deciding to go home.

Paul's last hope was to find him in their apartment, but the rooms were empty and still so cold without John and Julian.

Maybe John was so deeply hurt that he just couldn't forgive him, maybe he was scared at what Paul did that night, maybe (and this thought sent him into a panic) he returned to Cynthia!

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Too many maybes were echoing in his head and only increasing his fear of losing John. He decided to go to sleep, he would think about what to do the next day. Now he was just tired.

He was tired of waiting and chasing John, but above all tired of being without him.

Once on the bed he was sure he would hardly sleep. So when Elvis and Pepper approached to sleep on the bed with him, he began to stroke them, hoping that the gesture might relax him at least a little.

Definitely it was having an effect on the cats. He looked at them dozing blissfully beside him, while he was staring at the minutes passing by on the clock. It had only been half an hour since he returned home, yet it seemed like an eternity.

Then the sound of the front door being opened made him gasp and hold his breath.

Was it John?

That was stupid. Of course it was John, who else could come into an house with the key?

He was back then. For Paul? To be with him or to end it once and for all?

No, Paul wasn't ready to face him. So when John entered their bedroom, Paul instinctively closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

“Paul?”

But Paul kept his eyes closed. And he was very bad at pretending to sleep, he always ended up laughing. But laughing now would have been ridiculous.

Then the mattress under him moved and Paul felt his heart go crazy as John sat cross-legged on the bed.

"I know you're awake, come on." John went on, pinching him on the side.

The latter fought hard trying not to laugh at the tickling, but it was damn hard.

"Come on, luv, don't pretend to sleep. You're bad at it!"

Paul bit his lip.

_Fuck!_

"Where have you been?" he asked then, with a little voice.

He was angry with John. He thought he'd come back to Cynthia, and there he was, at home, with Paul. And although his being able to always surprise Paul shocked him, he also loved it, because he was the only one with the power to do so.

"Just hanging around."

Paul didn’t answer immediately, remained still, shaking his hand on the pillow, "Hanging around?"

"Thinking." John replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"About what?"

"About everything."

"Fuck, John!" Paul snapped, suddenly exasperated, so much so that the two cats jumped on the bed scared.

"What?"

His tone was unsure and made Paul nervous even more, but he didn't want to turn around, not yet. Looking him in the eyes would make him give in immediately.

"Don't make me insist. You're unbearable when you do that, you know?"

"Paul, holy Christ, what do you want? I am here right now, am I wrong? Wasn't that what you wanted?"

"And you? Do you really want to be here?"

The question hovered in the room heavily, until John sighed and crawled to lie down next to him. Paul held his breath when he let a hand run through his hair; his gentle touch made him shudder, and he thought that, though he had been good at pretending indifference so far, he let himself be discovered after John's caress. So silly of him.

That's why John's hand didn't stop, touching his shoulder, then sliding on his arm and finally ending up on his hips, where he wrapped himself to hold him tight.

"Of course I want to be here. Where else could I go?"

"I thought you'd run away to Cynthia again." Paul muttered, blushing, well aware of his jealous tone and that John could notice it.

And he did.

"Oh-o, someone is jealous, I see."

"Don't change the subject, Lennon." Paul said, turning to him, "You're awful."

John chuckled and Paul felt relaxing. His laugh had the power to calm him down and always put him in a good mood. On that occasion more than ever.

"Sorry, but what do you expect? You really left me speechless with that surprise of yours."

"It was stronger than me."

"Well, I'm glad."

John looked at him softly and stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. Paul immediately moved to cover it with his, in case he decided to leave at any moment.

"Really?"

"Of course. Oh, well, there were a couple of mistakes, but hey, you were performing alone for the first time in front of a real audience."

Paul frowned, indignantly, "What mistakes? I didn't make any mistakes."

"You did. At first, even if you tried to disguise, you made mistakes. Don't deny it, I saw you, luv."

"I was nervous." Paul justified himself, biting his lip.

"I know."

"And I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing for us."

"I know that too. "

"And?"

John came up to let their foreheads touch and ran his thumb over Paul's lips, stroking them, "And I'm sorry I disappeared and didn't trust you. "

Paul smiled, with a sincere smile, perhaps for the first time in several days.

"Really?"

John nodded, tightening his arm around Paul's waist to hold him more.

"I should never have doubted you."

"And I should have told you what happened with Heather."

"You don't have to worry, I think I can understand now why you didn't." John reassured, but Paul shook his head vigorously.

"I'm sorry anyway."

"Let's look at the bright side, finally the whole school knows."

"Right. They seem to have welcomed it well."

"Of course, it was your silly head that made you believe otherwise." John pointed out.

He tapped a finger on Paul's head, who immediately cheered, while John laughed amused.

"And then..." he went on, "I have a great song all for myself, don't I?"

Paul looked at him surprised, "Do you really like it? Isn't it too corny for you?"

"I like it because it totally represents you. And I really like you too, you know."

"Does that mean you're coming back home, you and Julian?" Paul asked again, and he hooked a finger in John's belt loop to pull him closer, before looking at him nervous, but also bold.

"I'm already home, aren't I?"

Paul bit his lip, anxious, before nodding and taking John's face in his hands, "Yes, you're home."

Then he leaned over and kissed him. He relaxed when John sighed and held him more tightly. He had wanted to grab and kiss him since he saw him in the theatre courtyard, but he held back for fear of being rejected. Now, however, he could no longer hold himself and tried to kiss him tenderly yes, but also with passion.

"Fuck, Paul. How much I missed you." John whispered on his lips.

Paul smiled and ran a hand through his hair, "It's only been a day."

"Only one? It seemed more."

"Just because you were angry with me."

That said, Paul was back kissing him and John laughed, delighted with Paul's desire to claim him. And since he felt exactly like him, he decided not to be outdone and really show him how much he missed him. He grabbed Paul by the shoulders, pushing him on the mattress, and Paul didn’t even have time to gasp surprised, that John kissed him again, and this time longer.

He was just sticking his hand under Paul's pajamas shirt, when Elvis and Pepper slipped into the space between their bodies and started purrs, rubbing themselves on John.

"Jesus, there’s always something…" John muttered annoyed, while Paul laughed.

"Come on, John, they just want a cuddle. They’ve missed you."

"Well, they have to wait their turn." John snorted, taking them in his arms and pushing them out of the bedroom, "Now, guys, dad John has something to do with dad Paul, so bye for now.“

And closing the door behind him, he returned to the bed, where Paul was laughing hard.

"Are you having fun?" John asked, hanging menacingly over him.

Paul's laugh waned and he hurried to look at him with his bedroom eyes, never as appropriate as at that moment.

"Quite enough."

"Well, not without me." he said taking Paul's arms and putting them around his neck.

Paul held him so there was no more room between them, "Never."

John smiled as Paul wrapped his leg around his waist and kissed him again. That evening he seemed particularly interested in his mouth. Of course, John couldn't blame him: he had a fantastic mouth, and God, if he kissed well, but he understood that Paul, even if he didn’t say it, was just showing him how much he missed him. And John was happy to give him some control when Paul switched their positions and nailed it against the bed. He allowed Paul to kiss his face, rub the tip of his nose against his moustache, and hold him so much that it prevented him from escaping again.

As if John wanted to run away again. No, that was enough. He made up his mind. Paul was his soulmate, his future, his damned everything, and he wouldn't give up for anything in the world, let alone for his stupid pride.

A shiver brought him back sharply to reality when Paul sat down, rubbing his back against John's groin. John groaned slightly as Paul dragged him up, grabbing him by the lapel of his jacket and taking it off.

"You know..." he began to say, running all over John's throat with the tip of his nose, "I would never have let you come dressed like this to the concert."

"Why?"

Paul sighed, clutching his fingers around the hem of John’s shirt, "This, for example, it’s not appropriate." 

“Hey, Pink Floyd are always appropriate.”

John pinched his side before letting Paul take it off and throw it on the floor. Paul laughed, biting his neck, when John ran his hands over his thighs.

"Yes, but it was our first concert, you should’ve been more elegant."

"Mm, and maybe put on a nice pair of pants like yours, so tight to highlight your pretty ass, right?" John asked, giving a little squeeze to his buttocks.

Paul gasped and moved just enough to stare at him in the eyes cheekily.

"I don't think you've complained." he stated, stroking his chest slowly.

"No, not at all. Actually, I can tell I enjoyed the view."

John let out a little growl when he came up to kiss him, but Paul avoided him smiling satisfied and barely blushing.

"That's what I was hoping for."

Then he let himself be caught again by John, as his hands slipped under his pajama T-shirt to lift it up and tickle him on his hips.

"You really are a little pervert."

"Well, I suppose… when it comes to you." Paul muttered, bending over to kiss him and sighed as John's hands spread and slipped on his back, lifting his shirt more.

Paul seized the suggestion and grabbed the hem to take it off the next moment, while John took advantage of it to pull him closer and start kissing his chest. Paul's fingers immediately clung to John's hair, clutching him to keep him close and arching his back to offer himself as much as he could.

John gave him all his attentions, kissing his white skin and nibbling his nipples, smiling satisfied as Paul threw his head back, starting to tremble and pant. He loved listening to Paul's moans and pants in those moments; they drove him crazy every time as if it were their first, so much so that he was more and more hungry, and at that moment he knew very well how to drive Paul crazy too.

He let his hands slide to the elastic of Paul's pants, barely playing with it, before tucking his fingers inside to stroke his ass, following the whole curve. In response Paul groaned, clutching his legs around John's hips and approaching his face, so as to let their foreheads touch.

"Don't stop." he murmured, his voice heavy with desire, "Please."

John smiled, losing himself in his eyes, and stroked his cheek before kissing him tenderly and picking up where he interrupted. He slid down Paul's pants, just enough to uncover his buttocks and have more room to touch and squeeze him. Paul gasped in his mouth, his warm breath brushed his skin, causing him to shudder.

This was enough to encourage John to grab Paul better and push him back onto the bed, regaining control.

God, he felt guilty about running away from him once again, for being afraid of losing him and not trusting him. So much so that now he wanted to be forgiven. Paul wasn't afraid to show his feelings at all, and John wanted him to understand not only how much he appreciated, but above all how much he reciprocated how he felt.

And as he hurried to taste Paul's skin with his hands and mouth, wherever he could touch him, he felt strangely frightened. It was a feeling he knew very well, a tender fear of getting something he didn't deserve. And fuck, he found himself again wondering if he was really worthy of Paul. He was as frightened as if it were still their first time.

But why? And why now?

When he touched Paul's chest with his lips, right there, where his heart was, he sighed and stopped for a moment, his eyes closed, enjoying his warmth and beats.

He knew why. It was like there were two new John and Paul in that bed. They were so changed that it really looked like it was their second first time.

Was that possible? John wasn't sure, but he was sure of how he felt, and for a moment he could easily see himself and Paul in front of that fireplace. With the same fears and the same love, yet so incredibly different.

“John?”

“Mm?”

John raised his head to lock eyes with Paul, who seemed worried.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, it's all right." he said, smiling and rising to kiss him on the forehead, "My love."

Paul's eyes twinkled and John took a moment to stare at him, his lips and cheeks redder than ever and his messy hair, but above all so happy in his arms, once again, where he belonged. And he wanted to enjoy it now, their second first time, without having their minds and hearts clouded by a thousand fears, guilt and lies. No, now there was nothing left that could part them. No lies, neither from him nor Paul.

"You know, right, I fucking love you?" John said, looking him in the eyes.

"Well, you'd be a fool not to."

John grinnes, "Sassy as always."

"Shut up now and kiss me, you fool."

Paul pulled him closer and kissed him, while his hand looked for John's to put it on his groin. John laughed mischievously, when his hand began to lower his pants and underpants to caress him. Paul wriggled under him, his mouth suddenly too weak to kiss and John took advantage, biting his jaw and then the warm skin of his neck, while Paul moaned uncontrollably under his sensual touch.

When he began to mutter John's name as a sinful prayer, John moved to get rid of their pants and underwear, stopping to kiss Paul's body while doing it. He left a trail of light kisses on his belly, ending on the inner thigh, where he was warm and trembling.

Paul bit his lip, holding back an obscene moan, and stretched out his fingers to tighten John's hair, accompanying his movements and encouraging him not to stop. The moment his legs opened, John wasted no time and bent over him, taking him in his arms.

Then he let their noses rubbing, listening to his breath join Paul’s, and his heart beating loudly against his ears. And when Paul smiled at him, just as he had done that far December evening, John moved to take his lips before and his body after.

Paul arched his back, letting a moan escape from his lips. John hurried to kiss him tenderly on the face, trying to make him relax, trying to make him understand that it was always him, his John, who would never hurt him, not anymore, that on the contrary, he would always be with him. Ready for anything, by his side.

It didn't take long for Paul to adjust to having John inside, and he chuckled softly when John kissed a sensitive spot behind his ear.

"What?" John asked curiously.

"This moustache... always so tickling."

Paul smiled as he leaned over a finger to stroke John's mustache, running the length of it. John looked at him amused, before grabbing his hand and holding it against his mouth to kiss it.

Paul's heart lost a beat and he looked at John for a moment as he wrapped his legs around his waist.

"Take me now."

John attacked his mouth and Paul held him in his arms. He longed for it so much, he couldn't wait any longer. He loved how John was so caring to him that night, more than usual. He knew it was partly due to his guilt, but he also knew that mostly it was John's feelings for him. If John hadn't loved him, if he hadn't been willing to start over, overcoming their problems once and for all, well, now he wouldn't have been there, holding and loving him.

So he relaxed, held John's hips with his hands, and let him greedily claim him, as if behind his thrusts there was a desire to mark him as his again, just now that they would start all over again. And Paul was happy to let him do it. He had always been his, after all, from the first moment he caught a glimpse of his eyes behind that pair of round glasses.

When John picked up a more demanding rhythm, Paul slipped his hands on his back, grabbing him and scratching his skin. Throwing his head back, he began to mutter his name, while John hid his face in the hot, sweaty crook of his neck, gently biting his shoulder, without ever interrupting his thrusts.

Stronger.

Faster.

Hotter.

And more John.

John, John, _John!_

Paul clung to him as much as he could, letting himself go to an overwhelming pleasure that also involved John, enveloped him and dragged with him in that burning fire that always left them tired and satisfied.

John fell on Paul, sighing against his neck. The young man held him tightly as he rubbed his face in his hair, deeply inspiring his smell. He liked John’s smell, it was the smell of home.

"I love you, John, in case you didn't get it."

John laughed and slid by his side, snuggling up against him and wrapping his waist with one arm, "You know, I think I’ve suspected something."

Paul turned to him, feeling his heart lose a beat. For a moment, that day, he believed that he could no longer enjoy John's view, with his messy hair and the satisfied look after making love to him. He believed that he could no longer hear his scratched voice, smell his scent, or hold him in his arms.

He thought he had lost his home.

But luckily, he hadn’t.

"Welcome home, my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning and happy birthday, Paul!! <3   
I should have gone to his concert in Naples, last week, but due to the covid situation everything was cancelled. Sigh!   
Anyway, I really hope you like the chapter. It has a light sex scene, which I'm not good at writing, but I did the best I can.   
Only 2 chapters left now.   
Next one will be "Grow old with me".  
Ciao!!!  
Chiara


	14. Grow old with me

John sighed in bed when he awoke the next morning. A satisfied smile spontaneously opened up on his face, while he thought that this was the first day of a new part of his life.

When he tried to stretch, he felt the weight of a body on his back. He laughed softly, realizing Paul was there with him.

Perhaps he remembered how vulnerable John felt in bed, early in the morning, alone with his thoughts, without Paul's protective shield. Or perhaps, much more likely, these days had tired him so much that he slept deeply till late, or at least later than John.

Whatever the reason, John felt good that morning, for the first time in a long time, and although he didn't want to wake Paul up, he really had to move. His arm under the pillow was numb and aching. So he turned to the other side, under Paul's arm, and luckily he went on sleeping.

John's gaze lost on Paul's relaxed face, while he was gently stroking his back. Small up and down movements that were meant to calm John down.

Paul was his, he was there with him. There was no doubt. Paul was the man who would still be by his side in forty years and even more. His arms would hold him up, when time would bend his back; his legs would be intertwined with Paul's when they would have been too weak to stand, his soft, rippling lips would still laugh at his stupid jokes.

John smiled amusedly, imagining him and Paul as two elderly men, but still in love. Oh yes, there would still be many difficult moments, but one thing was sure: in forty years he would wake up in that same bed next to Paul, caress him and he would wake up to his touch.

Like now.

"Good morning, Paul."

Paul muttered something and smiled, stretching into John's arms.

"I assume you slept well, don't you?" John asked.

Paul's answer was a simple affirmative nod. The sleepy look made it clear that he wasn’t yet able to say something with a meaning.

"Yes, thank you, Paul. I also slept very well."

Paul chuckled, wrapping his leg around John's hips to draw him closer.

"What did you say, Paul? Yes, yes, the pillow was comfortable, you should try it too."

"No, mine was just fine." Paul snorted, finally opening his mouth.

"Ah, so you still can speak?" John said, surprised, "I thought I pressed some weird button inside you last night, you know, that sort of silenced you."

"Daft."

Paul muttered with a pout, while John, way too amused for him, hid his face in the crook of his neck.

"It would have been a problem. I should have kept on doing that thing again until I found that button again." John pointed out and bit his shoulder, growling lightly and making Paul laugh, "And at some point I would get tired of all that stuff." 

"As if." Paul snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Well it’s actually true!" John answered, sliding a hand on his ass, "You bet?"

Paul shook his head, taking John's hand and moving it from his new, dangerous place, "Ah-a, no, I don’t. I got you, greedy little Johnny."

"Me? Greedy? I’m honestly worried about your own good. Seriously, you're ungrateful sometimes, Paul!"

John snorted, lying on his back, and crossed his arms with a melodramatic tone. Paul lifted himself on one elbow to look at him better.

"Yes, you, John, a greedy maniac who tries to corrupt a young and innocent mind like mine just to have my body."

John stared at him, puzzled, raising an eyebrow, "Young yes, but innocent? Are you serious, Paul? I remember some moments when _innocent_ is the last thing you can call yourself."

"I just wanted to see if you were paying attention." Paul said, smiling mischievously, and lay down on him.

"Cheeky."

Paul answered with an equally cheeky wink and John couldn't resist a single extra moment before pulling him to himself and kissing him, finally getting a proper good morning on his part. As he pulled away, Paul let slip a little groan with his eyes closed, while John smiled satisfied, getting what was going through his head.

"Yes, Paul, I'd like to do that to you too, but I have to get up and get ready." John said, checking the time and sitting down, "Julian's coming."

"Now? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Well, we were a little busy." He pointed out, winking.

"True." Paul agreed, and smiled at the idea of seeing the baby again, "Think how happy he will be to get his submarine."

"Surely you will earn points, compared to his cruel father."

"What are you saying?" Paul asked, surprised by that sudden change of mood.

What did this change mean now?

John ran his hand through his hair, a frustrated movement that didn’t go unnoticed in Paul's eyes.

"Nothing, Paul. Forget it."

Then he made to get up, but immediately Paul reached out to grab his arm and hold him down, next to him.

"Don't run away as usual, please, talk to me!"

John sighed, hesitating but feeling Paul's firm gaze on himself. A look that left no escape, he knew that well.

"You're going to give him back the thing he cares about the most after I made him lose it." he finally explained in a trembling voice, "You will be a true hero for him from now on."

Paul, in disbelief, observed that lost look he knew all too well, while John put his feet on the ground and turned his back. So Paul followed him, sitting next to him and giving him a little pat on the back of his neck.

“Ouch!”

"John, you're a real jerk if you think such things."

"But..."

"But what?" he said, taking his face in his hands and forcing John to look at him, "We're not rivals in this, John. It's not a question of who earns more points, we're a family. We always win together. And most of all... fuck, John, you're his father! If there must be a hero for Julian, that's you, no doubt."

John tried to lower his gaze, not yet convinced by Paul's words, but Paul kept his face still and his eyes fixed on him.

"I don't know, Paul, what happened made me think..."

"You’re dangerous when you think."

"...maybe I'm not much of a father."

Paul sighed and looked up to heaven for a moment, before looking again at John, "Please, John. I don't want to hear anything like that. What happened so bad, John? You were angry and you poured your nervousness over him. These things happen all the time, and let me tell you, it will happen again and again. But you can't feel guilty every time. You have to face it and overcome it and he will learn to do the same."

Paul stroked his cheeks, smiling at him. He hated when John was insecure about himself. He was a good man, and he was an extraordinary father. That's also why Paul decided to have a child with him. He had seen him and had seen how Julian looked at his father, and he was sure it would help him a lot with his experience.

“Ok, John?”

John still seemed hesitant, but Paul's smile and reassuring words were convincing, so much so that he clung desperately to them. Paul would never lie to him. Paul really thought what he had told him, and Paul was also the only one whose opinion really mattered to John.

"I'm sorry, Paul, I didn't really want to say these things."

"I know. And please, John, don't run away next time. Come to me. We will work things out together, as always."

John nodded as Paul lured him to him, hiding his face in his hair.

“It’s just I’m hurt when Jules is angry with me and I don’t know what to do.”

"We'll find a solution, don’t worry." Paul said, kissing him on the forehead, "I'm so happy I’m seeing him again."

"I'm sure he's glad too. He kept saying, 'Paul here, Paul there’. So bothering!"

John chuckled slightly as Paul loosened his grip on him and looked amused at him.

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and indeed I inform you that he was the one who told Cyn about the child."

"Ah." Paul replied, watching John get out of bed, "And?"

"And she... well, she was surprised, you know, I had just run away after that stupid fight." John explained, shrugging.

"Right."

"But then I explained to her and she... of course, it wasn't news she was expecting, but she didn't seem entirely contrary."

"Oh. It's a good thing, isn't it?" Paul asked, kneeling on the mattress, "I mean, we hadn't talked about it yet, but I thought to ask her to be our surrogate mother."

After all, she was really the only one Paul wanted to ask. Despite the problems of the past, Cynthia was a very maternal woman. She loved Julian and just wanted the best for him, for John and Paul. If there was one person who could help them on that great adventure, it was definitely her.

John smiled, approaching him, "That's what I thought too."

"I know." Paul murmured, wrapping his arms round John's neck.

"And it'll be all right, Paul, I promise you. She'll be fine, we'll be fine and Julian and Stella will be fine."

Paul laughed tenderly, resting his forehead on John's, "Stella?"

"Yes, that's how we're going to call our daughter."

"How do you know we’re going to have a baby girl?"

"I feel it."

"And you'll call her Stella?"

"Of course. And she will be splendid."

"I like Stella. But I really think we’re going to have another baby boy, and we're going to call him James, like dad."

"Hey, you’ve just called him _dad_!" said John, taking Paul by surprise.

"Well yes, but don't tell him." he hurried to say, biting his lip, "Not yet, at least."

"I don't see the reason, but okay, alright." John murmured and drew him to kiss him softly, "Not a word."

"Thank you."

"And by the way it will be a girl."

"It will a boy."

"Girl!"

"Boy!"

"Then you want war."

He immediately grabbed Paul's legs, pulling them around his hips, causing him to fall with his back on the mattress.

“Oh.”

John smiled with a sardonic grin at his astonished expression, and covered it with his body, "Thinking about it, maybe we still have five minutes."

"Five minutes? Really? You're optimistic."

"Bastard."

****

Five minutes and a shower later, John and Paul were having breakfast when the doorbell rang.

Paul immediately snapped to his feet, rushing to open the door.

“Paul!”

The child smiled happily as soon as he saw him.

"Hey, baby." Paul exclaimed, crouching down to pick him up.

Julian laughed when Paul lifted him up and squeezed him tightly, giving Cynthia a genuine smile. He was really happy that she was there, too.

“Hello, Cyn.”

"Hi, Paul."

"Please, come in. It's good to see you again."

"It’s the same for me." Cynthia exclaimed as she entered the house.

Paul closed the door behind her, before returning to look at Julian and let their noses rub against each other.

"I missed you so much, Jules."

"Did Elvis and Pepper miss me too?" the child asked looking for the two cats.

Paul nodded, "Absolutely. They meowed all the time because they couldn't play with you. "

"Oh no. You know, Paul, I lost my submarine?"

Julian's pout clenched his heart, "Seriously? And I bet you cried so much..."

"Yes, but dad didn't help me look for him."

_Dad_ had already joined them a few moments before, and Paul immediately recognized the guilt on his face. Fortunately, he knew how to solve the situation.

"But, you know, Dad has a surprise for you, doesn't he, _Dad_?" Paul exclaimed, winking at John.

He was totally caught off guard, so much so that he looked at Paul with a startled expression and perhaps, very stupid, "Huh?"

"Why don't you show Julian what you’ve found, John?”

Julian's expression lit up and looked first at Paul, then at his father, who finally understood what the other meant.

"What is it?" the child asked.

"Go with Dad to your room and you'll find out."

Paul put the child on the ground and encouraged him and his father to go upstairs. When he saw them go up the stairs, hand in hand, he smiled.

"You found his submarine, didn't you?" Cynthia asked, drawing his attention.

"That's right."

"Julian will be very happy."

"Sure, and at least now he won't be angry with John. He was so worried about making him suffer."

"So, you guys have made up, then?"

Paul nodded, smiling, "It's all right now."

"I'm glad. John was really unbearable when he came to me."

"More than usual, you mean?"

"More than usual." Cynthia agreed, laughing.

Noticing the woman's reaction, Paul felt more confident about himself and what bound him to John. Cynthia wasn’t a rival, she had never been. It all started in Paul's head, perhaps because he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found John and Julian, or maybe he was insecure about wanting to have a child. It was something he really wanted, but by the time things were getting serious, all of a sudden all his insecurities had taken over.

However, now he knew what he wanted and that with John's help everything would be okay.

"Then, did John tell you that we would like to have a child?"

"He did."

Paul sighed, nervously. He wanted to have this talk with John too, but Cynthia was there and he was finally sure of himself, and he had to take advantage of the moment.

"I know he even asked you to be our surrogate mother."

The woman gasped slightly. It was evident from the hesitant expression of her face that the subject made her uncomfortable.

'It's true, but you see, Paul, he also said he hadn't talked to you about it yet. I thought you wouldn't agree."

"I do agree." Paul said, "I very much agree."

"Seriously?"

"If you want, of course. I'd like to get you involved. It would be the most beautiful gift you could give us."

The woman bit her lip, "I don't know, Paul, I'm not sure I can do it."

Paul breathed deeply, before approaching her and taking her hands in his. John said he was good with words, so maybe if he tried, he could get Cynthia to think about it at least.

"Listen, Cyn, I know we're asking you a lot. And I know Julian's pregnancy wasn't easy, and you felt lonely. But this time it won't be like that, you will be surrounded by people who love you and we will always be next to you, at any time and for anything, you can count on me and John. And Julian, of course."

It was something Paul was sure about. This time it would be different for Cynthia if she agreed.

"I'd really like to help you, Paul, but what if I just couldn't do it?" Cynthia asked him.

Paul could see her inner battle. She wanted to help them, he was sure, but she was scared to fall back into that dark chasm that had swallowed her at her first pregnancy.

"If you’re not sure, it doesn't matter. You have as much time as you want to decide, we don't want to do this in a hurry. I just wish you were sure of your decision when you take it."

Cynthia looked at him before sighing and smiling.

"Mom, Mom, look!"

Julian's voice burst, catching both by surprise.

"Dad found my submarine."

The child rushed down the stairs followed by his father, holding his toy in his hands, his face had an expression of genuine happiness.

"Are you happy now?" his mother asked, ruffling his hair.

"Yes."

"Dad was good, wasn't he, Julian?" Paul asked, "He also washed it because it got dirty."

"He was great. Thank you, daddy."

Julian laughed tenderly as he hugged his dad.

John looked at him, sighing with relief and holding him tight, "You’re welcome, luv."

Then he looked up to lock eyes with Paul, who was satisfied and smiled at him.

_Thank you, Paul._

****

Paul bit his thumb nervously. With everything that happened last night with John, and that morning with Julian he had completely forgotten he had an appointment with Richard at the music school that same day.

He thanked for living right in front of the school, so he wasn’t late, but... what a jerk he had been!

It was strange to stand in front of his former boss talking about music. It was strange to stand in front of him after Paul's big little revelation of the night before. But Richard was there and he was smiling and... fuck, now he knew all about Paul and John! And Paul's awareness hovered heavily in the room. 

"I hope you enjoyed last night's concert." Paul said, drumming his fingers on his knee to distract himself.

"Oh, I would absolutely say yes. Your students were really great with that final song." Richard said enthusiastic.

"Thank you, we've been working on it quite a lot, but it was worth it."

"Well, you can be proud, Paul. Zak was quiet all the time listening carefully. Which means a lot, I assure you.” Richard informed him, winking.

Paul laughed, relaxing a little, "I'm glad. So, are you going to enroll them both in September?"

"Yes, I would say so. Lee isn't very enthusiastic, but I'd still like her to try, before giving it up. You have to try everything in life."

"Of course, also because the sooner you start, the better. We always offer a free month of lessons to give you a chance to figure out if it's something you like or not, so you don't have to worry about it. Our professors will try to make her enthusiastic."

Richard listened interested, before hitting his knee with his hand, "It seems perfect to me. By the way, the flute professor is smart. The little girl who duetted with one of your students was very good and was so young."

Paul gasped, suddenly remembering Heather and everything that had happened, but as fast as it had come, the thought went away, because now it didn't really matter anymore.

"Yes, Professor Mills only arrived last year, but she did a great job with all her students. We are very satisfied and proud of all our professors."

"Will you have any new professors next year?"

"We are looking for teachers of string instruments, in the summer we will do some interviews. We have met two exceptional musicians in this regard. Of course we don’t think they can accept to work with us, they are around the world on their tour, but they will recommend us some names to contact. There are also some ideas for new initiatives for the school. We want to create a small orchestra. We think playing together is a way for students to socialize through music and learn to listen to others."

"It's a very nice project. Kids will love it."

"It was John who decided it." Paul hastened to clarify, "This and the whole school, they're all his ideas."

Richard smiled, before lowering his gaze to fiddle with the rings on his fingers, "Is it for him then, that you stayed in London?"

Paul nodded. He expected the subject to come up, but strangely it wasn't that embarrassing to talk to his former boss.

It wasn't embarrassing to talk about it anymore.

"And have you given up your job?"

"Yes."

"After all you were a good inspector." Richard said sincerely.

Paul sighed, smiling, "Not enough."

He didn't care anymore that he lost that job. It had been one of his dreams, it was true, and he had achieved it. But now he had no regrets, because like so many other things in life, that too had changed, and it had changed for the better for Paul.

"I think yes. And even though I was sorry to see you leave the police, I understood your decision. After all, you had reached a certain position and accepting the transfer would have been a demotion."

"Yes, probably even if John hadn't been there, I would never have accepted that transfer."

"It would have been completely understandable." Richard agreed, "The important thing is to be happy."

"You can say it loud."

"And you're happy now, Paul?"

Paul's gaze fell on one of the setlist of the concert, still abandoned on John’s desk. Particularly on his name next to John's and the answer was immediately clear.

"I am."

****

From the window of the room you could see the Eiffel Tower with its warm lights that illuminated that cool late summer night. 

"So, Paul, what do you think of Astrid and Klaus?"

Paul turned to John and smiled. They were both lying on the bed in their small but cozy hotel room.

"They're nice."

As promised by John, they had finally managed to go to Paris, both to meet Astrid and Klaus again, and to take a well-deserved vacation, before the new school year. And probably before a new son. Cynthia said she would give them an answer on their return from Paris.

In the meantime, she would take care of Julian, so they could focus only on themselves. Not that being with Julian was a problem; it was just that every now and then they felt the need for a little moment to be alone. Not to mention the fact that this was their first real holiday together. Some kind of honeymoon.

"And did you like the concert?" John asked again, caressing his side.

"’Course I did."

"More than the first time? When you were all mad at me and I had to hold your hand all the time?"

Paul pouted. He remembered that night well, and God, even though it had been an extraordinary experience, he never wanted to be so angry with John again.

"Apart from the fact that I had every reason in the world to be angry and that I don't think it was a big sacrifice for you to hold my hand..." Paul pointed out, "…they both were good, each in his own way. They are two concerts in two different situations, John. You have to consider that too."

"We're different too."

Paul nodded, smiling, "Very different."

"And maybe in a year's time we will be even more so." John added, laughing amusedly.

Paul frowned, scolding him with his eyes, "John, we had a deal. Not to talk about it throughout the holiday."

"And I'm not talking about it." John defended himself, raising his hands,"I was just pointing out that we _might_ be different."

“Mm.”

"In a year."

"I get it."

"At this hour."

“John!”

"Because you know, Paul, I got a message today while we were at the concert." John said, looking at him carefully.

"From who?” Paul asked, watching John taking his cell phone from his bedside table.

But within himself, somewhere in his heart, where he jealously guarded his dearest affections, John and Julian in first place, Paul already knew.

He already knew who wrote to John and knew what it was written.

But that didn't prevent him from trembling when John handed him his cell phone. Paul looked at him anxiously, before reading the message.

The next moment he threw himself at John, laughing, hugging him tightly and causing him to end up on the mattress.

On the cell phone screen, Cynthia's words lit up the room in the dark.

_You still want that baby?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm very sorry about this month and a half of delay. The problem was I had to work in a sort of summer camp with little kids that went on for five weeks, and I'd come home in the evening so tired I couldn't be able to work on the translation.   
Anyway the summer camp is over now, thankfully, because I couldn't stand some kids and my boss anymore.   
This is the second to last chapter, next one will be the epilogue.   
The trip to Paris, of course, it's because of their famous Paris honeymoon in 1961.   
I really hope you guys enjoyed it. Let me know if you liked it or not. :)  
The epilogue, Here today, will arrive sooner. I promise.  
Ciao!  
Chiara


	15. Here today

A cry in the middle of the night echoed from upstairs.

Paul and John looked at each other half-sleeply and tired.

"I'm sure it's up to you." John sighed.

“Actually... it's _your _turn, darling." 

Paul pointed at him with his finger, but John moved it away from himself, "I'm sorry to contradict you, but I'm very much sure it was up to me last time." 

"And I'm sure you're very crafty." Paul commented, rolling his eyes before heading up the stairs.

"Be careful not to wake Julian." 

"That’s impossible, he's a sleepyhead like his father."

John watched him going up the stairs without looking at him, with a very annoyed attitude. He giggled to himself, then went to the kitchen to prepare the milk for the baby.

They were settling presents for Julian under the Christmas tree when the baby cried and surprised them. Although John had been there years before, it had been still a trauma to pick up again that pressing routine, spending sleepless nights and not having a free moment for himself. His body was affected by that sudden change, by lost sleep hours, running from side to side to buy diapers, accompanying Julian to school and arranging classes.

However Paul was happy, Julian was thrilled to have become the elder brother and John had loved the new creature the moment Cynthia agreed to help them.

In the end, Stella was born on a still warm mid-September day. After three months the little girl's face had become rounder, on her head there was a mass of soft blond and thin hair, but John could say without a doubt that she looked like Paul. She had the same chubby cheeks, the same mouth and the same grimaces. Ah yes, she could definitely pull faces like her father.

The rest came from the donor mother: the hair, as well as the eyes and the nose. She was a young woman from Manchester, Eleanor Rigby, who donated her gametes to the association they had gone to. John let Paul choose about the donor. There were many factors that could influence the choice: appearance, education, health conditions, genetic inheritance of certain characteristics, too many things on which John didn’t feel quite... _enough!_ He didn't feel he could contribute significantly. And so Paul made his choice, and from there began the very important role of Cynthia, who carried the little girl for nine, long months. It had been a risky pregnancy, but as they had promised her, they never left her alone and followed every moment with participation.

The girl was Cynthia's daughter, and John and Paul had to apply for adoption immediately after birth so they could take her home as soon as possible. After all, they had all the requirements: they were living together, they had domicile in the United Kingdom and had a partial genetic connection with the little girl.

But God, if it had been complicated. It had certainly been one of the most difficult and stressful years for John. Too many thoughts, too many changes. But if he hadn’t gone crazy, it had been thanks to Paul. It had all been easier, having Paul with him: easier to support Cynthia, easier to focus on the child, on the changes she had brought into their lives, easier to love her as his daughter.

When John heard Paul go down the stairs, he closed the bottle and joined him in the living room.

They actually completed each other. If Paul had been essential before the birth, John had been after. Paul had some difficulties at first. As good as he could be with children, it hadn’t been easy for him. The little girl was another person who had just turned his life upside down. But joining forces, they were succeeding and the little girl was growing up without any problem.

"Stella wanted to see dad John arrange the presents under the tree." 

John approached Paul smiling. The little girl stopped crying, but she still had her face flushed and damp cheeks and looked carefully at John when he took her hand, clutching her fingers with strength.

"And did you explain her that she's still too little to have gifts under the tree?"

"Oh yes, she knows very well. She's a very smart little girl, aren’t you, Stella?"

Paul tickled her belly, but the little girl looked up at him without any reaction.

"Of course, because she is just like her father."

"Oh, thank you, John."

Paul smiled at him, surprised and please, but John rolled his eyes, shaking his head, "I meant _me_."

"Can you at least try not to be a jerk?" Paul exclaimed with a pout, "That means she will be as beautiful as her dad Paul."

"And hungry too."

Paul looked at him utterly astonished, "What?"

"Come on, she had eaten no more than two hours ago. She’s like you, always hungry."

"I’m not!"

"Really? You ate all the cookies we had left for Santa while_ I_ arranged the presents." John protested, pointing to the empty plate next to the tree.

It was Julian who left cookies every year, along with a good glass of milk.

“One of us had to eat them. And I guess he definitely won’t be sorry, you know." Paul pointed out. 

John shrugged, thoughtfully, "I don't know, what if Santa comes later and is sorry and takes away all the presents?"

Paul looked at him with his _enough-with-this-shit_ look, and was about to respond when the little girl began to cry again, calling their attention.

"Oh no no, luv, we're here, don't worry." he said, taking the bottle out of John's hands and sitting on the couch, "Every now and then Dad John acts like a fool, but you'll get used to it."

John laughed and reached him, as Paul better placed the little girl in his arms and handed her the bottle that she immediately grabbed with her mouth. By now Paul had taken some skill in managing the little girl and John liked to look at those two together.

"Dad?"

As he feared, Julian had woken up and joined them.

"Julian? What are you doing awake?" John asked, noticing the child on the stairs. 

"I heard Stella crying."

"Don’t you worry, baby, she was just hungry." John explained to him, "Go back to sleep."

But the child joined them in the living room and immediately looked at the Christmas tree, hoping to see Santa Claus or even better, the gifts he had brought!

"Why are you here?" he asked, smiling happily when he realized that his wishes had been fulfilled.

John looked at Paul for help, but he just smiled at him. His eyes well expressed a silent question, _'What are you going to tell him now?'_

"You see, luv, we heard a noise and went down to check if Santa had come."

"And was it him?" the child asked concerned.

"Of course, don't you see he ate all the cookies?" John explained, giggling and looking at Paul, "Only he could do that with his cute belly."

Paul shook his head in response, murmuring another _'asshole'_ with his mouth…

Julian came up to look at the little girl. His relationship with his little sister was already well established. The child was old enough to understand his role as elder brother. He cared about Stella and cared about what she did.

"Is Stella eating milk too like Santa?"

"Yes, come and see her." Paul answered, nodding his head.

So Julian climbed on the couch, with John's help, who took him in his arms.

"She's very hungry, isn't she?" Julian asked, leaning out to look at the little girl.

"Sure, she's like Paul." his father said.

“John!”

"You're right. Like Paul and Santa."

"You’re hopeless."

John laughed and snuggled up against his shoulder, holding Julian, "Have you seen how many presents Santa left?"

"Are they all for me?” Julian asked hopefully.

John kissed him on the hair, "I think so, luv."

"And Stella?"

"Stella is too little. Santa said he's going to bring her presents next year." Paul explained, winking at him.

"Too bad. Can I give her one of mine?"

"Of course, honey." John answered, caressing his head, "But you'll have to teach her how to play."

"Then can I open the presents now? I'm going to show her right now."

"No!" the two men exclaimed in unison.

"You can open the presents tomorrow morning, as always." John added, "Cheeky monkey." 

His father pinched his chubby cheek, and Julian cheered, crossing his arms across his chest, "Not fair."

Paul laughed and put the now empty bottle on the table in front of them, while the two Lennons still discussed whether or not to open at least one single present. Julian eventually became convinced and stopped insisting when John threatened him.

"Now sleep, otherwise I have to call Santa so he comes to take away all the presents."

"You can’t call him."

"Actually, yes, I have his mobile number, he left it to me just now."

"I want to see him then."

"No way. Just be quiet now and sleep, so good old Paul can sing us a lullaby." John said, looking at Stella who finally yawned.

"I’m too sleepy, John."

"Come on." John protested, starting to poking at him on the shoulder,"Me, Julian and Stella want to hear the new song you wrote and that we like so much, right, Julian?"

"Yes, come on, Paul. Please." the child said, hopping a little.

John immediately surrounded him with his arms to immobilize him, before he made Stella nervous, and then yes, they would never sleep again.

Paul looked at Julian's begging face and it hit him straight to the heart... God, he couldn't help in front of his puppy eyes. The Lennons’ eyes. Not to mention that the song always made Stella fall asleep, too.

"Come on, Paul, you want to put the kids to bed, don't you? So we can go to sleep as well."

Sure, but John would pay for that.

"Only if dad John sings it too."

"But I'm too sleepy to sing." John protested, yawning to emphasize his reasons.

"Don't worry, the effect will be more soporific. You're going to put us all to bed in the end."

Julian looked at Paul, who smiled winkingly at him.

"At your own rick then." John blurted, shrugging.

"I'm going to start because_ I_ wrote it."

"Go on, I won’t stop you."

Paul breathed deeply, adjusting the blanket around the little girl, and began to sing.

_“With a little luck, we can help it out. _

_We can make this whole damn thing work out.”_

The inspiration for the new song came by thinking of everything they had been through during those years. That's why every time he sang it to the children, the tone of his voice became lower and sweeter. It was a very intimate moment, when he sang to tell them what they had been through and that despite the difficulties, they would overcome everything with a little luck and a little love.

_“With a little love, we can lay it down. _

_Can't you feel the town exploding?”_

His words cradled the little girl just as his arms did, and Julian was listening intently.

Paul was singing for his family, for the most important people in his life and he wanted to make everyone understand how happy they made him and how much he loved them. They were able to get what they had after so many problems, but they had made it. First the school, then the little girl, was all they had built together and they would fight to protect it.

_ “There is no end to what we can do together. _

_There is no end, there is no end.”_

When John joined his voice, Paul looked at him with a smile, while he gave him a wink as if he wanted to tell him that no, there was really nothing they couldn't do together.

_“The willow turns his back on inclement weather_

_And if he can do it, we can do it, just me and you.”_

Paul couldn't believe it. After all, they had already passed the most difficult time in their relationship, when Paul discovered that John and Hermes were actually the same person. That moment and everything that followed was surely the most complicated thing to accept for Paul since John had entered his life. He felt lost, betrayed and insecure about the future.

_“And a little luck, we can clear it up. _

_We can bring it in for a landing.”_

But John, as always, managed to find the words to get him back on the right track, theirs. 

_“With a little luck, we can turn it on. _

_There can be no misunderstanding.”_

After all, for a strange destiny, their paths crossed one day a few years ago and then never strayed.

His feelings for John became more important as time passed. They caught Paul off guard. Suddenly, he had realized how precious John's presence was in his life. So much so that he could no longer imagine his life without him.

_“With a little push, we could set it off. _

_We can send it rocketing skywards.”_

The realization had left him confused. It had been hard to accept to have certain feelings for a man. Yet when he had been afraid of losing John, he hadn’t thought twice before acting.

He had been reckless and risky, but at that moment he felt it was the right thing to do to convey to John what he felt. And from there it all happened so fast that at first he was scared.

However, the fear lasted very little, and to abandon himself to John and everything he had to offer to him was easier than he thought. He could have had an even easier life, perhaps, but it would have been a life he didn't like, as well as without music. Like the lyrics of a song without any melody.

_“With a little love, we could shake it up. _

_Don't you feel the comet exploding?”_

He knew after all that what he had started was destined to explode, and it was from the first moment he set foot in that shop and met John's eyes.

John brought enough love into his life to make it special as well as his greatest fortune.

As Paul sang, Stella was the first to fall asleep in his arms, warm and beautiful, with that baby’s sweet scent which had the extraordinary power to make him feel good. Julian followed her soon after, his legs stretched out on his father's and his little head abandoned on Paul's arm.

And John... John dropped the duet at one point in the song, resting his head on Paul's shoulder.

“John?”

John yawned soundly just like Stella before.

“Mm?”

"If you fall asleep like this, I'll leave you here. You're warned."

"What a killjoy." the man muttered, squeezing his eyes tighter.

"I know what to do to wake you up."

At Paul's words, John awoke, rising to look at him mischievously.

"Please, Paul, not in front of the children. Get a grip."

"If you keep going like this, Santa Claus will come to get your presents back.” Paul threatened him, without being able to hold back a laugh.

"Why?? Do I have presents too?"

"Of course. The red one with the golden bow.” Paul answered, pointing to something under the tree, "Take it, come on."

John glanced at him, but eventually got up, being careful to move Julian's legs.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Open it?"

"What? Why?"

"It's my gift to you."

John shook his head, in a sign of warning to Paul.

"Paul, Paul, Paul, we can't tell Julian that the presents must have been opened tomorrow morning if we open them tonight. He'd find that pretty contradictory, you know. Children understand this kind of things."

"Come on, John, it's just a gift. Tomorrow morning we will wake late and we will be busy with Julian, Stella, the presents and the lunch. I want you to open it in a quiet moment."

John stared intently at him, before Paul added, "Only between us."

And he finally gave in, "Mm, okay, but you'll have mine tomorrow."

"If it's still your endless love, I can wait the. Nothing new!"

Paul snorted and John turned an indignant glance at him. Who did he think he was, that little cheeky-

"Now open the gift."

"Ungrateful!" John snapped, the exaggeratedly snobbish expression, as he was busy examining the gift, "Let's see, what can be? So thin, smooth, square... I really have no idea."

Paul raised his hand, "I say it's a deflated ball."

"Paul, how did you know? It's been my dream since I was a kid. A deflated ball all to myself.” John exclaimed, with a dreamy air.

When he opened the gift, however, the smile froze for an instant. His gaze was fixed on the gift, incredulous, astonished. It was the first autographed edition of the 1956’s _Elvis_ album. It was also the album John wanted to steal when he decided to get arrested by Paul.

"I know you had to return some of your collection, but I thought it was a good way to start over." Paul explained.

Paul bit his lip, looking at him hesitantly as if... as if that gift might not please John, or bring out some misunderstanding or...

“Paul.”

_Stupid!_

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it?" Paul hurried to ask, "George told me."

"Yes, but..."

"I've wanted to give it to you for a long time, but it took me a while to find it."

"I don't know what to say."

"Thank you? For example?"

John laughed, his back against the couch, "All right, thank you very much, Paul. You were such a fool, you didn't have to."

"Just say _thank you_, you daft." he said, asking for one of his kisses.

John gladly complied, kissing him the best he could.

"But..." John went on when he pulled away, "It's a thank you for so many things, not just for the gift."

If John thought back to how his story had started, he almost laughed, because it seemed so weird. He always thought he didn't really need a family. But now he knew he had only found the wrong people until then. Then with the arrival of Jim, Julian, Paul and finally Stella, he felt now he had a family he would do anything for, to see them happy. A family to be grateful for.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Paul smiled, slipping a little lower so he could rest his head against John's. Taking advantage of the new position, John wrapped his arm around his shoulders, holding him tight.

"Thank you for singing for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and thank you because your smell is the best I can wake up with." John said, his nose in Paul's hair, deeply inhaling his smell, "And thank you for kissing me suddenly, taking me off guard and making me feel special at that moment."

"But you always are."

"And you, as always, are biased."

And to emphasize his words John drew him to himself, kissing him on the forehead, and Paul closed his eyes for that brief moment.

"Those are so many things to say thank you for."

"And there are many more, but I think you already know them."

Paul knew all that John was grateful for, especially the difficulties John tried every day to overcome with his help. The future still scared him because it was something John couldn't predict or control. But what they had was beautiful and strong and would be their greatest strength. They were on sure ground with Julian and Stella. And John was even more so thanks to Paul.

"I must also say thank you for a gift." Paul said.

"Which one?"

Paul bent down to touch his lips, before rubbing his nose against his cheek.

"To be the song of my life."

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone.  
How are you?  
So, this is the end. Last chapter of the whole saga about inspector!Paul and thief!John. I don't know if that's what you expected, but I still hope you enjoy it, at least a little bit. I wanted so badly to give them a happy ending. They deserve it. The song in the chapter is of course "With a little luck" by the Wings. It's so sweet. I thought it would be perfect for the ending.  
I wanted to say thank you to each of you who read the story from the beginning. I'm so sorry if I made you wait too much in between the chapters. :(  
Also thank you to Vale because she helped me correcting the Italian version and thank you to Alessandra who drew this beautiful picture about the ending. You can see it [here](https://letitmclennon.tumblr.com/post/157645646575/grazie-di-cuore-a-alex-coffeegirl-per-questo).  
I hope I'll be able to translate the other oneshots I wrote about John and Paul. Stay tuned! :D  
Grazie e ciao a tutti!  
Chiara

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are. I really hope you like it. Let me know if you want. :D  
Next chapter, I'm losing you.  
Ciao ciao!  
Chiara


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